


Like there ain't nobody in this town, but us

by Lolly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drugs, F/M, Female Harry, Female Harry Potter, First Time, Healer Harry, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, More tags when I think of them, Politics, Post-War, Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 128,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolly/pseuds/Lolly
Summary: It's been two years since the war with Voldemort has ended. Life for the survivors is sometimes though, sometimes weird, but it keeps going. Hazel Potter's been studying to become a healer, Severus Snape, nowadays Prince, has been writing books and making a name for himself as a brilliant scientist and researcher. They keep meeting at parties they are obliged (and usually forced) to attend.*the title is from the song "Left Behind" by Hunter Price
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 382





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go.
> 
> I am not entirely sure if this is not extremely boring, but I was working on this for the past few weeks and I am hitting the point where I would like to know if it's any useful. So I am putting it up to you to see if I should waste any more time on it.
> 
> Have fun. Or not.  
> L.

Hazel Lily Potter-Black frantically looked around the room, trying to locate her high heels. It was the first of May, 2000. She was running late for the second anniversary ball of the Battle of Hogwarts. Not that she really wanted to go, unfortunately, she did not really have much of a choice. She was a guest of honor of the Ministry of Magic and the Minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt had made her promise that she would show up. Thankfully, she managed to beg off from making a speech this year, pointing instead to Hermione or Professor McGonagall. Both were much more suited to the task.

Finally locating the heels, she quickly put them on.

“Kreacher!” she said loudly, while smoothing her dress.

“Mistress called” the elf appeared with a crack in front of her.

“Could you please clean up my room a bit? I will be gone most of the night” she instructed the old elf.

“As Mistress wishes,” the elf bowed deeply.

After the war, the elf was more than happy serving her. Gone were the insults and inane mutterings. She secured his loyalty by fulfilling Regulus Black’s last wish and restoring the Black Manor to its former glory. It took almost six months to make the house a place she could stand living in. Six months and thousands of galleons, but galleons were one thing she did not lack. With both Potter and Black fortunes, she could restore the manor hundred of times, and it still would not make a dent in her supply. Not only, she hired the goblin construction workers and human designers to make the house habitable, but also she decided to go with the original manor’s style, although quite a bit brighter. That gained seemingly unending supply of good will from Kreacher. Even the Black family tree was restored, although she did make sure the disowned family members were also back on it. Sirius, Andromeda, Nymphadora. Even if only Andromeda was still alive.

Kreacher was even happier when she purchased another elf, Tinny, to help out the ancient creature in the upkeep of the house. Hermione wasn’t, but she swallowed the disappointment, as Hazel has always treated the elves with kindness and forbid them from hurting themselves. Hazel’s friend figured that they were better off with her than with anyone who might treat them like the Malfoys. 

With the dress finally straightened, Hazel looked into the mirror. The red and black dress suited her quite well. She even managed to tame her hair. She never thought back during her Hogwarts’ years that she would ever be concerned with the way she looked, but one did not argue with Healer Andromeda Tonks. Apparently, a witch of her position in the wizarding world was expected to look the part. Hazel did not particularly care about how others saw her, but after the war she did manage to find an appeal in looking pretty for herself. Once, she was able to purchase a wardrobe for herself, and wasn’t too worried about being always ready to fight against the Dark Lord, she wore dresses quite often. She even grew out and tamed her hair a bit. Although, more often than not, it still looked quite messy. 

Ron disapproved, but then again Ron disapproved of most of the things she was doing these days. The fact that she did apply to the auror academy after the war, rather studying furiously with Hermione for her NEWTS and entering Wizarding University of London, majoring in healing. The fact that she restored Grimmauld Place. The fact that she started dressing up as a grown witch should. Literally everything. Ron just couldn’t get passed them not being school kids anymore.

Part of it, she suspected, was the money suddenly available to her after her seventeenth birthday. The goblins weren’t very pleased with them, but still they have informed her of the money, properties, investments, etc. Hazel had more money than she knew what to do with, and even less time to do it. The Wizarding University of London was taking up most of her time, the rest she spent working as a medi-witch (it was the basis of the healing and potions programme at the University and one could not finish the first year without obtaining it) in Saint Mungos and volunteering in Azkaban. Not many healers and medi-wizards were exactly willing to help the people who in many cases murdered or tortured their family members or friends. 

Hazel was. It was suggested to her by her Mind Healer, as a way to face her fears, see the former Death Eaters as human. She kept it up from the need to keep as busy as possible. Between studying, Saint Mungos and the bi-weekly trips to Azkaban, she collapsed exhausted on top of her bed more often than not. And that meant no nightmares. At least there weren’t any dementors in Azkaban anymore.

Hazel sighed, mentally preparing herself for hours of terrible small talk, scorches of young men - _boys -_ trying to get her attention and at least one dance, so that they could brag to their friends. Hazel _detested_ it. During the first myriad of parties, just after the war ended, she met one of those boys. He seemed to be a perfect gentleman. She danced with him thrice, before begging off to the bathroom. During her absence, a scorch of other _young men_ surrendered him. He bragged to them, how he was going to _fuck The Girl Who Conquered through the mattress_. Ever since then Hazel stayed well away from any of them.

With final glance to the mirror, she apparated to the gates of the Minister’s Manor.

The Minister’s Manor was located on the outskirts of London, in one of the few wizarding neighborhoods. It stood proudly on the hill, among the small park and was a residence of presiding Minister of Magic since early 17th century, previous being burnt to the ground during one of the so-called Blood Wars, a series of conflicts between noble families spanning almost two centuries, and ended when Minister Maxim le Fey strong-armed the noble families into signing a peace treaty and arranging several marriages between the heirs of the key families. As Hazel found out from one of the portraits of Blacks, it was what started the alliance between them and the Malfoy family.

Quickly vacating the apparition point, Hazel looked around, only to notice a crowd of finely dressed wizards and witches, being lead to carriages, which would take them to the manor’s entrance. All of this was happening under watchful eyes of dozens of aurors and irritating flashing of reporters’ cameras. There ware at least twenty of them, likely british and foreign.

Trying to look inconspicuous, she slowly walked towards the carriages. It was in vain. 

“It’s Hazel Potter!” someone shouted almost immediately.

One of the reporters must have spotted her. They all pretty much abandoned what they were doing and Hazel was subjected to dozens of flashes pointed in her direction.

“Miss Potter! How are you doing two years after the war?!”

“Miss Potter! Witch Weekly, what a beautiful dress! Would you tell our readers if there is a special someone in your life?!”

“Miss Potter! Rita Skeeter Daily Prophet! Are you going to join Wizengamot session this autumn?!”

The voices mixed until she could only make out a couple of words.

“Do you think… what are you plans for… who made the dress... join auror corps… join Ministry...”

_Miss Potter! Miss Potter! Miss Potter!_

Hazel’s vision started to sway a bit, her breathing fastening, constant flashes confusing her. She tried to get a grip on herself and her brain, but it was a futile fight. Just before the flashbacks swam into her vision, she felt someone behind her.

“Enough!” she felt the magic, more than saw it. The flashes stopped and the cameras fell to pieces in the photographers’ hands. “Lady Potter-Black obviously has no desire to answer your inane questions.”

Hazel turned around. She knew the voice. Everyone knew the voice. Severus Snape, or rather Severus Prince, was standing behind her, wand in his extended hand, glare with the power of a thousand suns burning, promising death to the reporters. Hazel was somewhat surprised that none of them actually burst in flames on the spot.

“Mister Snape, this equipment is expensive!” Hazel heard Rita _fucking_ Skeeter behind her. “You cannot just destroy it! The Ministry...”

“It’s Duke Prince and you may contact my attorney, Miss Skeeter” Snape interrupted her coldly, in a voice that even Rita Skeeter took a note of. “Potter move along for Slytherin’s sake. Some of us want to get this circus done and over with. And you are blocking the path standing like a moron.”

Severus Prince, despite the name change, was still solid, still protecting her. He took her by the arm and Hazel’s vision cleared.

“Thank you, Sir” she muttered softly and she was lead towards the carriage. The man extended his hand, helping her into the carriage, two aurors joining them inside. 

“Sorry about that, Lady Potter, Duke Prince” one of them said. “We didn’t see you, Ma’am” he explained.

“Then maybe you should find another job, if you cannot even keep track of your charges” Price sneered at the man. “One can clearly see that the Auror Corps had to lower their standards after the war.”

The man went red faced and shrunk in his seat. He couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than Hazel, and yet he looked at her almost reverently, like she was some kind of royalty. She was of course the head of two noble houses, but she was just a kid, not even out of her teens. Not too mention, traditionally, the man next to her had a much higher position in the wizarding society than she did. One of the reasons she kept to herself this past two years. The Wizarding University and Saint Mungos had very restricted access for reporters, and none of them were allowed in Azkaban, when healers and medi-wizards were there.

Severus Snape, _Prince_ , she reminded herself, also kept to himself. Immediately following his miraculous survival, acquittal according to Albus Dumbledore’s instructions and release from Saint Mungo, he quit his job at Hogwarts, reclaimed Prince Estate, and set out to release a mountain of research, revolutionizing the understanding and healing of many Dark Magic curses, including healing the nerve and muscle damage from Cruciatus, as well as long-term Dark Magic exposure damage.

Hazel always knew the man was brilliant, ever since the Half-Blood Prince book. The depth of his brilliance hadn’t hit her, until she, herself, gained a lot more knowledge during her university studies. During her first year at the university, everyone, from first year students to aged professors, had only one question in terms of publications, what will Severus Prince release next. The word _genius_ was thrown around a lot.

Apparently, being a target of multitude of dark curses during his servitude for the Dark Lord, has spurred the man to create a vast array of spells and potions to help overcome their effects. Hazel had a sneaky suspicion that he tested most of them on himself and his fellow Death Eaters.

Now, he was also releasing books, on Defensive Magic, as well as potions. Hazel bought them all and they were even better than his edits to the _Advanced Potions Making_. The second one, a defence book, was topping the best seller lists in Great Britain and worldwide for three months now.

He looked better these days too. Healthier, cleaner, less… _desperate,_ she thought. It took years off of his face. During his teaching years it was easy to forget that he wasn’t even forty. Now, he looked his age, or even younger when the wasn’t scowling. He was also much better dressed than at Hogwarts, wearing well-fitted, clearly expensive, black silk robes with a silvery shirt and a green tie. Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Or perhaps he was just blackmailed by the minister into wearing at least a bit of color.

Although, even without his teaching robes, he was still intimidating as hell. 

The silence in the carriage stretched uncomfortably until they arrived at the manor’s main entrance. The aurors left first, and Prince followed them. As she was leaving the carriage, her former professor offered her his hand and she gladly took it, the man helping her down the two steps to the ground. She walked towards Kingsley, who was standing on the steps leading to the manor, Prince following a couple steps behind.

“Hazel! Severus! How good of you to come!” he exclaimed. Hazel thought he was faking it pretty well, given that he basically tricked her into coming every year by gathering money for orphans during the ball. He even went so far as to remind her in the note attached to her invitation.

“Kingsley! A pleasure to see you” she curtsied lightly. It took her forever to learn how to do it. Wizarding World was so stuck in 18th century sometimes, but Hermione insisted.

She felt Severus Prince stopping next to her.

“Kingsley” he nodded curtly.

“Welcome, welcome! Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable. We will speak later, I hope” the minister waved them both in, turning to greet more guests. After entering the busy hallway, leading to the ballroom, Hazel lost sight of Prince, as she walked towards the main table. Hermione was already there, wearing beautiful blue dress, looking quite becoming. They had both grown into women, Hazel supposed. She was baffled as to when it all happened. Hermione was even busier than she was these days. Studying law at the same uni as Hazel, in addition to about a ton of internships with the Ministry and various wizarding businesses.

“You look stunning” Hermione greeted her, kissing Hazel on the cheek.

“Thank you. So do you” Hazel answered. “How is everything? I haven’t seen you in a month.” 

Hermione looked rather guilty.

“I am sorry” she said. “I was just really busy with my studies and...” she let the sentence drop, clearly uncomfortable, and unsure of how to finish.

“And?” Hazel prompted her.

“I sort of started dating someone,” she admitted. “Courting really. It is a bit weird in the wizarding world. But I think I really like him.”

“Oh, Hermione, that’s great.”

“Well, I don’t know. He was a Slytherin, year above us. Timothy Fawley. You know the younger brother of Gemma Fawley, the prefect in Slytherin, our first year. Although, apart from those two, most of the family traditionally goes to Huffelpuff. Ron saw us one day at the Diagon and completely blew up.”

Hazel nodded. After the war, she realized Hermione and Ron weren’t really matched as friends. Ron…just didn’t seem to be able to grow up. Even with the auror training he got into without passing his NEWTs. Or maybe because of it. Hazel heard from some of her colleagues at the uni who were dating young auror trainees that the boys weren’t very mature or steady boyfriends to have. Chasing dark wizards, hexing each other all the time in the training apparently wasn’t productive to a relationships, and apparently, friendships. Hazel sort of hoped that Ron could move past it, but even her own relationship with the youngest Weasley has deteriorated. Slowly at first, but more so in the recent months. Hazel just wasn’t that interested in going out and drinking beers all night anymore. Even this ball was better than a pub packed with sweaty young men, who thought that just because she was The Girl Who Conquered, they could cop a feel. She hexed a few, but it did not help much. At least, it was highly unlikely that someone would try that in the formal setting of the Minister’s Manor.

“He is an immature idiot sometimes” Hazel said. “But how is your latest internship at the ministry?”

“Oh, it’s fantastic!” Hermione exclaimed. “It’s in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! You cannot imagine how 18th century it feels sometimes. I have been reading up on the werewolves' laws and it’s simply appalling! Their rights are almost non-existent. I am quite seriously thinking about working on it after my graduation” with that Hermione launched into the details of the laws, and was happy with Hazel occasionally nodding and murmuring her agreement. That’s how it was sometimes with Hermione, when she was really passionate about something. And people wondered how she made it into Gryffindor, with all her little _noble crusades_. 

Thankfully, Hermione’s explanations left Hazel able to look around the room and evaluate the guests. Andromeda Tonks was talking quietly with Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge were talking with someone she did not recognize. Bill and Fluer were engaged in a spirited discussion with one or another of ministry wizards. Hazel also noticed groups of her Hogwarts friends, standing around the room. Ginny was hanging off of an arm of another one of her boyfriends. This time it was Justin Finch-Fletchley. If her history was any indication, she would move on soon enough. Neither Hazel, nor Hermione particularly approved of the way she used her recent fame (apart from her role in the war, she joined Holyhead Harpies right out of school, although was put on reserve), and beauty, Hazel admitted to herself, to string boys along and then dump them. From what Hazel heard from Neville, neither did Mrs. Weasley.

Neville was there as well. Apparently, with Hannah Abbott as his date. They stood with Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones and a couple of other Hufflepuffs and younger Gryffindors, who took part in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hazel spotted Oliver Wood and what she thought was a couple of professional Quidditch players hanging around, laughing and joking. She couldn’t find Ron or Percy, but she assumed they must be somewhere around.

She did spot a couple of healers from Saint Mungos, who she worked with, and resolved to at least search some of them out before the ball ended. Mid Hermione’s tirade they were joined by a couple of healing and law students at the university, and her friends’ monologue turned into a spirited debate on the werewolves laws. 

“Please, we all know that werewolves are extremely dangerous magical creatures and should not be allowed in a civilised society” one of the boys, _Malcolm_ , Hazel though, was saying.

“The same could be said about wizards,” Hazel countered. “Even a child in the wizarding world can be extremely dangerous. Especially a child, as they don’t have the ability to control their magic. Should we quarantine all of the wizarding children? Werewolves are only dangerous 3 nights a month. If proper precautions are taken, there is no reason why they shouldn’t be allowed to have jobs. More, if they could have a job, they could afford Wolfsbane Potions, and the danger would be even lower. With the way things are, we are only alienating them, making them hate us. Fenrir Greyback was a very good example. The wizarding world turned on him, so he went to the only place he could hope to better his life - Voldemort” everyone flinched. “Continuing to alienate them, can only result in more cases like that.”

“You cannot possibly allow werewolves near regular wizards” argued Malcolm. “The risk of being bitten is to great. The lawsuits that would follow… A small business cannot simply afford to pay for the damages.”

“I don’t expect them to have werewolves on duty during the full moon” disagreed Harry.

“Well, Miss Potter-Black, not everybody is as brave as you” he winked at her. _He winked at her._ “After all, you defeated You Know Who. Perhaps, you could show me some time the ways to defeat such a creature.” 

“It’s sixth year material at Hogwarts. I am sure you are more than capable” she answered coldly. “If you excuse me.” She had no patience for immature boys.

She stepped away from the group, but she didn’t even walk ten steps, before she heard her name spoken behind her.

“Lady Potter-Black. If I may have a moment of your time” Hazel turned to see impeccably dressed Narcissa Malfoy. She was poised and calm, and Hazel found herself wishing she could be so well… put together as the blonde women.

“Lady Malfoy” Hazel quickly followed Hermione’s curtsy. “A pleasure to see you”.

“Likewise” the women answered.

Ever since Hazel started volunteering at Azkaban as a mediwitch, she passed on some information about the health of Lucius Malfoy back to his wife. The man got only five years sentence due to his cooperation and favorable statements from Hazel herself. Although, it wasn’t strictly forbidden, Hazel kept it under wraps. 

Lady Malfoy was as always dressed impeccably. Hazel was quite envious of the woman poise, even here, in the middle of the ball celebrating her sides defeat, she was poised and calm. Though, was it her side really that lost? Narcissa got swept in the whole affair and she never was a marked Death Eater. She also saved Hazel’s life, and although that debt was paid in full by Hazel’s testimony for her and Draco, she found herself liking the older woman. Not to mention, they were cousins. 

“How are you, Lady Malfoy?” she inquired.

“Fairly well. My charity has been taking off recently” the blonde admitted. Narcissa Malfoy was one of the few Slytherins, who managed to stay afloat after the war. Most of her generation was either in Azkaban or dead. Hazel’s peers were all seemingly lost in this new world, where their parents were gone. Like Draco, who from what Hazel heard, was doing nothing with his life. He hadn’t even bothered to pass the NEWTs.

“I am glad to hear that.”

“Your donation was most appreciated, Lady Potter-Black.”

“You are doing good work” Hazel almost shrugged, but caught herself. According to Phineas Nigellus Black, the Heads of Most Ancient and Noble Houses did not shrug.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, which were interrupted by the call to the main hall for that year speeches. Lady Malfoy left her with an invitation for tea at the university campus in a few weeks, which was where Hazel would pass on the news of Lucius health. The families were only permitted one visit every three months which Hazel though barbaric.

Hazel knew that Narcissa was using her to an extent to regain her good standing in the community, but Narcissa knew that Hazel knew, so it was alright. She did get quite a bit from the relationship as well. Lady Malfoy shared a wealth of information on the Black and Potter houses, and helped her immensely in navigating her status as their head. She recommended books on etiquette and noble house, who’s who in the high society. Hazel generally avoided high society, but there were at least a couple of formal occasions that she simply had to attend. Most of them just before the summer and close to the end of the year. This, unfortunately also coincided with her exam sessions, but without Voldemort to preoccupy herself with, focusing on studying was much easier. She had scored very highly on her NEWTs and was one of the top healing students at the uni.

Hazel made her way to the main hall. A ministry employee intercepted her and directed her to the chair on the podium next to the Minister. She sat down.

“Kingsley” she muttered in greeting.

“Hazel, how are you?”

“Fairly well, the university is keeping me busy.”

“So, I have heard. You even volunteer in Azkaban,” he said so mildly, that Hazel couldn’t figure out if he disapproved or not.

“It’s cathartic” she explained lightly. “Besides, even without the dementors, Azkaban is miserable place that sucks the life out of you.”

“I don’t disagree, although I would prefer if the Girl Who Conquered was not the one helping the former Death Eaters with their health problems,” he said, his said, his face still turned to the audience, smiling brightly.

“And why is that?” Hazel almost scowled.

“Security risk” was his short answer.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, especially accompanied by a healer and two guards, all of us with wands, against malnutritioned, weakened man with magic restraining collars” she countered. “Or is it the publicity that comes with it that is not according to the Ministry liking?”

“We tried to make Azkaban less...”

“Horrible?” she suggested.

“Something like that. It is just… if something were to happen to you there… Merlin hopes nothing will, the Ministry would be… hold to account.”

“Well, then maybe the security should be tighter, if that’s what you are worried about, Kingsley” she tried to keep a scowl off her face.

“I apologize. You are right. However, you do have a certain penchant for attracting trouble.” This time Kingsley’s tone was conciliatory. 

“You don’t like that I am volunteering to help Death Eaters, do you?”

Kingsley sighed. 

“It’s not that. You helping former Death Eaters is entirely in your character, Hazel. I cannot blame you for that. But there is still a lot of people that think we should lock them in Azkaban and throw away the key. People are still angry, many lost entire families to Voldemort.”

“As have I,” she reminded him frostily.

He turned to her at that, his face serious. “I know, but not everyone is as forgiving as you are.”

She started to form a response, but then was interrupted by this year’s host.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, at the Second Ministry Gala, commemorating the great victory over You Know Who in the Battle of Hogwarts. My name is Richard Daniels, and I will be your host tonight” the man was an employee of Wizarding Wireless Network, Hazel knew. “Special welcome to the heroes of the battle. The one and only - Lady Hazel Potter-Black, the Girl Who Conquered” Hazel stood up and waved among thunderous applause. “Duke Severus Prince, Headmistress Minerva MacGonagall, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, Miss Hermione Granger, Mister Ron Weasley, Lord Neville Longbottom,...”

Hazel tuned out after that. The list went on and on and she knew all the names on it. It was the same last year. If she had it her way, she wouldn’t have come, but needs must. It was apparently important from the morale point of view. The last two years were not easy for the Wizarding World. The economy was completely in shambles after the war. There were thousands dead, hundreds of children left orphans, their parents were either dead or in Azkaban. The werewolves pretty much never surrendered. Fenrir Greyback still causing trouble in more rural areas of the country. The cleanup post Voldemort was still going on. Trials of the lesser supporters of Voldemort’s regime, those unmarked held still one week a month. 

Hazel herself was mostly detached from this, working towards her degree, but Hermione kept her mostly up-to-date. 

Kingsley standing up and walking over to the microphone has broken her out of her thoughts.

“Welcome, my friends,” he started his speech. “It has been two years since that fateful day, when we battled the forces of the Dark Lord Voldemort. It has been two years since Hazel Potter-Black has defeated the monster. We are all grateful to her for that.” Hazel almost snorted at that. She would if it weren’t for the damn applause. Two years for her meant two years of waking up covered in cold sweat. Two years of paranoia and PTSD. Two years of therapy with Saint Mungo’s best Mind Healer. Two years of trying to move on and failing, burying herself in her studies. A bunch of reporters with cameras almost made her go crazy just an hour ago. Not to mention that she was manipulated like a puppet by the late Albus Dumbledore.

“We are also grateful to all the others who partook in the battle against Voldemort. Many of them are here tonight, but many have been lost in the fighting. Please, let us honor their sacrifice with a minute of silence.” The entire hall stood still and silent. After what seemed like an eternity to Hazel, Kingsley resumed his speech. “We have had to years of peace, and, although there are still some of Voldemort’s former servants at large, we need to now focus on rebuilding our society and the trust of our community. For two years, we have focused on securing our country, now we must focus on bringing prosperity to each and every member of it. With that, I would like to announce that Hogwarts will reopen in the fall for all the children that have been studying externally and we wish to double the efforts of rebuilding Diagon Alley.” 

That got almost as much applause as Hazel. Hogwarts was in a sorry state after the war, definitely not fit for housing children. Most of the kids were studying daily in the buildings provided by the university and various charitable organizations and going home to their parents at night. It was an inefficient compromise, and especially Muggleborns suffered for it.

“The reopening ceremony will happen on September 1st and in the name of our brilliant Headmistress Minerva MacGonagall, I would like to invite you all to attend.”

 _Great, another party to attend in the fall_ , Hazel thought. She has not returned to Hogwarts since the battle, and she wasn’t sure if she could go without having a major panic attack.

“It is a first step,” Kingsley continued, as the applause died. “On the road to recovery for all of us. We wish the wizarding Great Britain to be safe and prosperous for our children. Allowing them the opportunity of a solid education in this country greats magical institution.”

“Nevertheless, as we stood united in war,” at this Hazel did snort quietly. Hermione and McGonagall, sitting just a few chairs away threw her exactly the same disapproving looks, which was quite funny.

However, Kingsley pandering was mildly irritating. Most people cowered before the Dark Lord, very few took up the arms, mostly Muggleborns, who really had no other choice. Halfbloods, purebloods, even those who did not support Voldemort, but were not his primary targets, cowered and run, and bribed, and bowed to his regime. The vast majority of those who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts were younger than 20 years old. Students, the whole bunch of them, not even of age. And they died for those cowards, who now could barely spend a few thousand galleons for rebuilding. “We must stand united in peace. This is the call for each and every one of you. Hogwarts’ reopening is our hope for tomorrow, but we must all work for it to matter.”

***

The speeches lasted forever. After Kingsley, MacGonagall talked about reopening of Hogwarts, then some ministry lackey droned on and on about the heroes of the war. It was almost as painful as trying to listen to the Umbrige’s talk at the beginning of the fifth year. Finally, the formal part of the evening was over. Well, the formal part were everyone had to sit still and listen. Or stand, if one hadn’t received Order of Merlin for their contribution to the war.

Not to say that the rest of the evening was any better. Hazel was immediately snatched by Ministry employees, forced to make conversations with one department head after another. Some wanted to recruit her, others just wanted to be seen with the Girl Who Conquered. The new head of Aurors, Joseph Lawrence, was particularly interested in having her in his department.

“I am sure, you know, you would be a great asset to the department. Now, more than ever, we need strong witches and wizards like you. Even with Voldemort dead, there are still Death Eaters at large” he explained to her as if she was an unruly child. “And with those werewolves attacks, we could use you, Lady Potter.” 

Lawrence was a muggleborn, who went into hiding during the Voldemort’s regime. Although, he, unlike some others, did his best to harass the Snatchers and Death Eaters, killing at least seven with his small group of other muggleborn aurors. Somehow, they managed to stay under the Voldemort’s radar. That was probably why Kingsley made him the head of the department.

“Mister Lawrence, I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, however, I am rather happy studying healing. I know that the department has been… decimated during the war and in post war trials, but you must understand, I am quite done with fighting.”

Lawrence looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“The last couple of years have been… strenuous,” she continued. “I have lost a lot of friends and family. I have little wish to see more perish.”

“I understand, we all lost loved ones, but as you said, the department is… severely lacking. We lost a lot of good people. Moody, Tonks that you knew, as I have heard. Even more were fired or sentenced to Azkaban. Proudfoot, Dawlish, Savage, that I also believe you have encountered. Just to name a few. And, although, I definitely would not want to bring back Dawlish or Savage, your unique expertise would be valuable to us. Not to mention, it would boost the confidence of the people,” he paused seeing the scowl on her face. “I do realize that you are… uncomfortable with the thought that we might be simply using you for publicity. I assure you, that would only be a bonus. You are resourceful, magically strong, and a natural fighter. Those are the people we need.”

“Ron joined the department,” she pointed out.

“Yes, yes. And both are undoubtedly assets. Mister Weasley too, is an asset to the department. He will make a good auror, but he does not possess your leadership skills..”

“I understand, unfortunately I am quite settled at the university and I think I can do a lot of good being a healer.”

Lawrence’s face softened.

“I understand. I won’t convince you, but I had to try. And I have no doubt you will make a great healer” he nodded.

“I know it’s disappointing, Mister Lawrence, but I am tired of constantly running for my life. Saint Mungos, while chaotic and busy, provides me with a good environment to grow and develop myself” thank God for Narcissa Black. Their bi-weekly tea provided Hazel ample learning opportunities in the art of bullshit without too much worry about offending the older witch. The women delighted in instructing Hazel, although subtly.

Hazel still hated it and she would probably never escape the onslaught of ministry wizards, if it weren’t for Andromeda Tonks nee Black coming to her rescue. 

“Joseph, I simply must speak with my cousin, she has been ridiculously busy at the university. You know, Joe, it’s exams time.”

“Of course, of course, Andy. I hope your grandson is well.”

“Yes, very well. Just had his second birthday. Already showing the accidental magic.”

“Well, with a talented grandparents, and fantastic auror for a mother, one cannot be surprised.”

“Thank you, Joe.” Andromeda answered him tersely. 

She took Hazel by an arm and lead her to the bar.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” she handed her a glass of red wine.

“That’s one way of putting it. I’d rather be playing with Teddy.” Andromeda smiled at that. “Thank you for rescuing me, Aunt Andy.”

“It was my pleasure. I was also worried that you would blast Joe out of the room if he kept bugging you.”

Hazel, as Teddy’s godmother, had come to know Andromeda Tonks rather well after the war. The women, despite just losing all her family apart from a newborn, has almost forcefully removed Hazel from Hogwarts two days after the battle and announced that until she had Grimmauld Place renovated, she would be living with her.

She also helped Hazel with her NEWTs and her application to the university. She even put her in touch with Jeremy Hill, Hazel’s current Mind Healer. Andy was a healer herself, specializing in children. Although, now with Teddy, she reduced her working hours quite significantly. Hazel helped her with her godson for the first six months and was still babysitting quite a bit, as her schedule allowed.

“These events are incredibly tiresome. I have quite forgotten about it. How are you holding up?”

“I am ok. Tired. Had probably too much wine already, but that’s the only way to get out of some of the conversations. Or answering stupid questions.”

Andy chuckled. Hazel admired the women greatly. Although, she knew that Andromeda grieved deeply for her husband and daughter, she still held together. Well, she was a Black. But then again, so was Hazel, after her grandmother, Dorea.

“You will come for lunch tomorrow” she ordered.

“Gladly,” Hazel smiled. “I haven’t seen you and Teddy in two weeks.”

“Joe, at least, you can be sure means well. He is persistent, I give you that, but you can trust his word. I know you have no interest in joining the Auror department, but you should know that. He is very much under pressure, as the first Muggleborn head of the department. You probably would boost him, and knowing how good you are, he cannot help himself.”

“Wait, wait, wait. First Muggleborn to head the department. How is that possible?”

“The Wizarding World is still very much prejudiced against muggleborns. Had always been. Voldemort took it to extreme, but the discrimination has always been there. And is there still. Please, our highest ranking legislative and judicial body is hereditary and that’s very much unlikely to change anytime soon.”

“Right, Wizengamot. I get that he needs a boost. But I am not that special. Dumbledore orchestrated pretty much the entire thing. Snape’s done way more than I did. Well, Prince. But whatever.”

“You sell yourself short. You destroyed Voldemort. You made him mortal again. Broke into Gringotts, run through the entire country, fought with Death Eaters that all those around you run from, with few exceptions. You survived Voldemort how many times? Five, six? Not counting the rebounded Avada Kedavra. And you lead people. Inspired them. And you do that still. Do you know how many healers and mediwizards volunteered in Azkaban before you came around?” Hazel shook her head. “None, we drew lots. The loser had to go. And then you came around and volunteered. Just like that. I thought Michael West Jr. would fall off his chair. And you do have a lot of magical power. Those who survive, sometimes are lucky, but they do survive for a reason.”

Hazel nodded, somewhat dazed at Andy’s proclamation.

“Now, try to look like you are enjoying yourself. Go and talk to your friends, while they are all here. Next opportunity will be in a year.”

Hazel kissed Andy’s cheek.

“Thank you, Aunt Andy. You are without a doubt, the best thing that happened to me after the war. You are damn impressive witch.”

“Of course, I am. I am a Black,” Andy stated haughtily. “Now, scram.”

Hazel located Neville and walked towards him with purpose. Just like Andy and Narcissa said. He was standing with George and Ron Weasley, his date - Hannah, Oliver, Luna and a couple of other DA members.

“Hi guys!” she exclaimed.

“Hazel! I thought you would never escape Ron’s dear boss and all the other ministry employees that simply must speak with you” Neville said.

“It was a close call. Andy rescued me.”

“Andromeda Black is a force to be reckoned with,” Zacharias Smith nodded knowingly.

“Oh, she is. All Blacks seem to be. Although, I prefer the saner ones,” Hazel chuckled. “So, how are we rating this years gala?”

“On the scale of utter boredom to mind numbing lethargy?” asked Oliver.

“Oliver,” Hermione said, approaching them, her tone scolding. 

“I am with Oliver on that one” Hazel said, picking another glass of wine from a passing waiter.

She wasn’t really used to drinking and she probably already had too much. She wasn’t drunk, but a bit lightheaded. 

“Ah, you too, of course. Why am I not surprised?”

“At least Hogwarts reopening. You are all coming, of course?” Neville asked.

The chorus of “yeses” was enough of an answer, and Hazel’s lack of response was lost. An endless stream of questions and answers began. How was the uni? How was the Puddlemere United faring in the season? Whom was dating whom? 

It was easy to talk to her friends from DA. They all fought together, they all lost friends and family. They all knew the important stuff.

Apart from Ronald Weasley, apparently.

“Can I speak to you privately, Hazel?”

“Sure, Ron” she smiled at him. They have been best mates for years, even with the relationship deteriorating lately. Hazel sort of hoped that Ron was going to apologize for being a douchebag, since he joined the auror programme.

Ron lead her away from the crowd, to one of the empty rooms in the maze of corridors. He cast a silencing and privacy spells on the room as well. Hazel thought it was a good idea, at least reporters wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on them.

“So, how have you been, Ron?”

“I am great. I am graduating auror programme next week. Passed all my test and all. I am not the top trainee, but I am doing quite well. Lawrence mentioned that he will assign me for a year or two to an investigative team. I am getting full auror pay starting next month. Already have an apartment lease near the Diagon.”

“Fantastic! Congratulations!”

“Thank you. That is why I asked you here. On the anniversary of the battle and all. I thought it was fitting.”

“Ok,” Hazel wasn’t exactly sure what they were talking about, but sure. Ron had managed to become an auror and it was an achievement worth celebrating.

“I know that you are a great witch, Hazel. Probably one of the best. And that you have been enjoying your university studies...”

Hazel had to interrupt. “Ron, if this is about me joining auror corps, then Lawrence has already asked. I am simply not interested.”

The boy blinked at her and laughed.

“Join the corps? No, of course not, Hazel. That did not even cross my mind.”

 _Oh, so maybe Ron is growing up after all,_ Hazel thought.

“I don’t get why Lawrence would even ask,” Ron shook his head amused. “I know why you went to the university. It was a logical step after the war. Especially, since it would take me time to complete auror training.”

And Hazel felt once again lost in the conversation. _What has Ron’s training to do with my studies?_

“But now, since I am graduating and will be able to support us, there will be, of course, no need for you to continue.”

_What?!_

“No need for me to continue?” she inquired, quite unsure of where the conversation was going.

“Of course, I mean you are a woman of noble house.” He said it as if it was a foregone conclusion. “So, I would like to ask you to marry me. We have been best friends since we have met, and I have planned to do it for quite a bit. Since six year or so. We can have a winter wedding, and then perhaps a child or two.”

Hazel stood completely speechless. _What has he just said?_

“Ron, wait a second...”

“There is no need to wait, Hazel! Now, we can be together. I am capable of supporting you. Of course, it would be best to have a first one within the first year or two of marriage. I am sure we can manage that” he grinned at her and then leaned in and kissed her hard on the mouth. 

Hazel was utterly stunted. Enough that Ron managed to slip his tongue into her mouth. Clumsy claiming her. She pushed him away.

“Hazel, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy? I even bought you this” he pulled out a small box and opened it. There was a ring inside. It wasn’t extremely expensive, but large, and very flashy. Nothing like subtle jewelry she preferred. “Here, let me put this on” he tried to grab her hand, but she took a step backwards.

“Ron, I am not quitting my studies, not now, not ever!” she exclaimed.

The red head boy in front of her looked befuddled.

“But you are a pureblood heiress” he said after a moment.

“I don’t care. I want to be a healer! I am not quitting studies, especially not for marriage. When I get married, it will be a partnership! Sharing responsibilities. I am not going to be anyone’s housewife!”

That seemed to confuse him even more.

“Oh, come on, Hazel! That’s how it works! I am in love with you, you are in love with me, we get married, have kids, you take care of the kids and household, I work.”

Hazel scoffed.

“No, that’s not how this works! First of all, we are not getting married!” she shouted. “You are my friend! I am not in love with you! I have never been in love with you! You are… _were_ like my brother! At least for a while. We have barely spoken during the last year! You were acting like an asshole! And now, I don’t even have a word for this… this… idiocy!” Ron tried to grab her, but she pushed his hand aside.

“Idiocy?! It doesn’t matter if you don’t love me. I love you and with time, you will love me too! It’s not Hogwarts anymore! It’s real life. Our adventures are over!”

“I am not going to be some extension of you! Are you crazy? I am not some praise to be won! I thought you understood that! I don’t even know who you are!”

Ron’s face turned red in anger. 

“I offer you a family! What you should want! With me, your friend, who was with you from the start! And you spit in my face! So, what are you going to do?! Are you one of those perverts?! Or maybe just a common slag like Hermione?!”

“Hermione’s not a slag! She is courting!”

“She’s courting a Slytherin!” 

“So what?! Maybe you should look closer at your own family! Like your sister going through one boyfriend after another! Neither me, nor Hermione are behaving like that.”

Hazel noticed, when Ron raised his hand, but she had never imagined that it would quickly descend on her cheek.

“How dare you talk about my sister like that?!”

Hazel had enough. She drew her wand.

“Get away from me! Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Please, what are you going to do with that? _Expelliarmus_ me? Just because you defeated You-Know-Who, you think you are that irresistible?! They just want to fuck you, I offered you a chance for stability...”

Hazel didn’t listen. She swished her wand and Ron flew backwards hitting the wall. She didn’t look back at him, running out of the room. 

_I am not going to cry!_ she told herself. _Not because of that bastard!_

***

She ran through the corridor, grateful for its emptiness, until she encountered an exit towards the gardens. Nobody should be back there. She located a secluded pavillon and ran into it, not noticing that she crossed a privacy ward, similar to the one Ron put up, until she crashed hard into someone.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” she muttered. _Ok, so maybe she was crying because Ron was fucking asshole._

Someone’s arm steadied her.

“Miss Potter” a deep voice reached her consciousness. “What’s happened?”

Severus Prince. Of all people she could run into, she had to run into Severus fucking Prince. They, of course, made up somewhat after the war. She apologized. A lot. Until he ordered her to shut up. He did not apologize in so many words, but their relationship has become cordial, somewhat friendly even. He sneered much less at her.

But the man seemed to notice her tears. He gently lead her to the bench and provided a handkerchief.

“It’s nothing.”

“Yes, because indomitable Girl Who Conquered cries over nothing,” he said, but surprisingly his voice held no malice.

“Ron… Ron was being a giant asshole” she explained, not even knowing why she was telling him that.

“Although, it does not surprise me that Mister Weasley is immature child, I cannot imagine him saying something too outrageous in a public forum.”

Hazel raised her eyes to meet his. _Thank Merlin for magical makeup that did not smear, although my eyes must be red from crying by now._

“We weren’t in a public forum. He asked me to speak privately. And what he said… It was completely mad.”

Prince raised his eyebrow. It was always very difficult to lie to Severus Snape. Now, when he earned her respect and gratitude, it was even harder. She found herself just spilling everything. At least, she could trust him to never tell a soul.

“First, he proposed to me, said I should quit my study at the university and become his housewife and broodmare. And when I dared not to be overjoyed at his proposal, he dared to be confused, saying things like _that’s how it works_. All in all making me feel like I should be thankful that he wanted me for a wife!” Now, that initial shock and hurt passed, she was angry, furious really that Ron even tired to suggest that. “And then, when I said he sounded completely crazy, he called me and Hermione slags and perverts. Finishing off with...”

“With?” prompted Prince.

“He slapped me when I pointed out that he should look to his sister, who’s changing boyfriends every week,” she finished weakly.

“What?!” Prince growled.

“It’s fine. I knocked him into the wall and left” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Prince sighed.

“Purebloods.”

“I am sorry?” Hazel raised his gaze towards him. He was sitting next to her, back against the pavillon’s wall. 

“Mister Weasley is a close-minded boy, who despite being rather poor by most pureblood families standard, was raised in that culture. And rarely had to think about anything else. In a way, he is just as spoiled as Draco, which is probably why they were always at each other's throats. Your friendship with Mister Weasley did not help matters.”

Prince paused, closing his eyes.

“You see, Lady Potter-Black, the society you entered after leaving Hogwarts is… backwards compared to Muggle culture. There has never been the sixties in the Wizarding World. And I mean 1860s. All noble house, and a lot of others as well, at least those which matter, have money, connections or simply do not want to be seen as commoners, do behave in a way Mister Weasley described. Well, of course, they are much more polite and poised. Undoubtedly, your friend behaved exactly in the same manner as he seems to consume sustenance. I doubt that changed.”

“You cannot be serious. And it’s a _former_ friend.”

“I assure you, I am. How many pureblood women do you know that have an occupation?”

“Errr… Madam Bones,” she offered. “And Andromeda.”

“Ah, yes, Madam Bones. A special case, for the rumors are that she was - what you boorish former friend called - a pervert. Although, a not offensive, derogatory term would be homosexual. Of course, there was never any proof, otherwise all her magical prowess and stellar competence would not keep her in her position. It might as well be just a rumor and she was simply not interested in a relationship or in tying herself down to an uninspired half wit possessing half her intellect. There are examples of that in our history. Many female ministers of magic were such. Or at least suspected. And Andromeda Tonks had married a Muggleborn and got disowned for it..”

“But that’s completely backwards!” Hazel exclaimed. “I can understand somewhat the dominance of man in the muggle society, when physical strength mattered, but in the wizarding world it makes no sense.”

Prince looked at her mildly amused. A look she did not think she had ever seen on him before.

“Bloodlines, Hazel. Bloodlines. Heredity. Pureblood. The wizards live longer, but they also have major issues with procreating. Families like the Weasleys are unique and unusual. The Malfoys, for example, rarely have more than one child. To have two is an ultimate blessing. Of course, a large part of it is inbreeding, but it has been going for such a long time that no one remembers when it was different.”

“So, what you are saying, basically, is that I should quit my degree and find myself a proper husband to lie quietly on the bed, while he fucks as much sperm into me as possible? Is that right?”

Severus Prince actually chuckled. She realized then that he was a bit drunk. Not extremely so, probably to the same degree as she was. Just lowered inhibitions, but no staggering, no memory loss.

“I am a halfblood, Hazel. And I seriously doubt you could lie quietly for anyone. No, I am just pointing out that most purebloods will expect that from you, perhaps some or even the majority would demand that. It _is_ how it’s done after all. How it has always been done.”

“Great, from being the Girl Who Conquered to being a trophy wife.” She stood up angrily. “Bastards.” And then a thought crossed her mind. “So, is that what you are doing here, Your Grace? Looking for a wife to bear your children?” she asked teasingly. 

Prince’s black eyes met her. He was quite stunned. And then, he seemed to realize she was joking.

“I received 47 marriage offers this year alone and we are not even halfway through. No, I do not look for a wife.”

“47? You are certainly popular, Your Grace.”

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered.

“Isn’t that your title?”

“It is. I like it about as much as you like being called Girl Who Lived. I endure it, because it’s proper.”

“The things we must suffer through...” Hazel laughed lightly. “Is it true that if Madam Bones was discovered to be homosexual, she would be fired?”

“Yes,” Prince nodded. “There is a reason all your female teachers are either Halfblood or Muggleborn. Pureblood women do not sully themselves with such a middle class occupation as working. And homosexuality is still technically illegal under the Wizarding Law. They probably would not charge her, although who knows.”

“That’s bloody stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it this way, but I concur with the sentiment. Especially since, it should be theoretically possible to combine DNA of two witches or two wizards to create a child of them both with the use of magic, and even to allow men to carry their own offspring.”

“What?” Hazel blanched, but in a second it came to her. “Creating a magical womb within a male and cesarean section. The adaption to the body would not be nearly as problematic as in case of Muggles. Magic could sustain the womb and a baby, and cancel out hormonal differences, since our physiology is quite a bit different from the Muggles.”

“Yes, a witch is closer to a wizard than she is to a female Muggle.”

“That begs the question - how are Muggleborns? Squib lines?”

“That is one of the leading theories. Of course, publishing such an _outlandish_ idea would probably mean that I would never publish anything ever again, so I will have to refrain.”

“Let me guess, such research into the lines of muggleborns would result in problems with inheritance of powerful pureblood families.”

“Spot on, Miss Potter.”

“I preferred when you called me Hazel.”

“Severus, then. If just to stop you from saying _Your Grace_.”

She was about to ask something else, but at that moment the clock struck midnight and the yearly fireworks were launched. Hazel expected the same noise that had almost sent her into a panic attack a year earlie, but pavillon remained silent.

“Silencing charms?” she inquired.

“Yes.”

“That’s much better than last year. It wasn’t… pleasant.”

“No, I don’t imagine it would be,” agreed Prince, offering her a hand. “Shall we?” he offered his hand like a proper gentleman would.

Hazel took it and they walked towards the fence surrounding the pavilion, just in front of the charms’ barrier. Snape had the damn pavilion more closely guarded than Dumbledore had the Philosopher's Stone.

“A show in your honor,” the man sneered lightly.

“Funny. It was all Dumbledore’s manipulation, your bravery, and incredible amount of luck.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Prince. “But you survived. Those who survive, sometimes survive for a reason.”

Hazel laughed, and Prince looked mildly offended.

“Sorry, you are the second person to say those exact words to me today. Are fireworks why you are hiding out here?”

Prince did not answer.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

“I have drunk too much today,” he muttered. “But if there is anyone who will keep my secrets, it is you, I guess. I have spent almost twenty years trying to atone for the death of my best and only friend. Family, my, dare I say, sister. This does not seem like a proper way to celebrate those twenty years.”

“There was a purpose. And then, we both expected to die. And yet here we are. In this strange, lonely world.”

He nodded curtly.

She had believed it was more of a romantic, unrequited love that Snape had for her mother. Apparently, not.

Hazel looked at Severus Prince. He changed since the war. Looked better, less tired and haunted, younger, more his proper age, which was really barely out of teens for a wizard. His hair was even now cut shortly. But there was more to it, more to this new Severus Prince. A deeper, more emotional change. He atoned for his sins, he finally managed to move past grief and self-loathing.

 _But what is left of you, once the grief and self-loathing are gone. Twenty years is a very long time for a 40 year old man,_ she thought.

She watched him. A Death Eater turned spy turned hero. A Duke, a genius. How different his life would be had it not been for one catastrophic mistake. The Half-Blood Prince. Her Half-Blood Prince. She had a massive crush on him during her sixth year, until he killed Albus Dumbledore, of course. Witty, sarcastic, dark. Someone she could relate to.

But all that was long gone. Now, he was widely acclaimed researcher. Scientist, she would say if they were muggles. But even after everything was done and over, he was still fucking protecting her. It aggravated her. She could handle herself. It also made her feel safe and warm. 

Prince had obviously realized that she was watching him. He had a peculiar look on his face. Like he was trying to figure some riddle out.

_Riddle, ha!_

It was crazy, mad, insane, bonkers. Standing there, half way to drunk, her brain buzzing lightly, with Severus fucking Prince.

_Ah, fuck it. He can curse me for it. For once, I am gonna do exactly what I want!_

Before her brain even caught up to what she was doing she straightened, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Clumsily, obviously, her only experience being two kisses with Neville and one with Cormac.

He froze. For what it seemed like an eternity.

_Well, better than cursing me outright. At least I get to kiss my Half-Blood Prince once._

And then, to her utter astonishment, because something like could not have happened in any realistic scenario without causing a tear in the space-time continuum, he kissed her back.

Not clumsily. With purpose and skill, dominating her mouth, almost teaching her the proper way to kiss. 

_Not a boy. Not even close,_ Hazel thought absentmindedly. After that her brain shut down, everything reduced to the damned feeling of Severus Prince kissing her. The fire burst through her veins, burning out the overwhelming loneliness of the last two years.

A hand sneaked into her hair, and arm around her waist. She hesitantly placed both of hers around his, as he drew her closer.

Severus Prince was always on a thin side, so she did not expect to be pressed against hard muscles.

Lightly biting her lip, he ended the kiss. He looked down at her. In his eyes she could read astonishment at what had just happened between then. Bewilderment, confusion.

“Again, please,” she said, before she could think about roughly one million reasons why they really shouldn’t be doing this. 

Undoubtedly causing another tear in space-time, Severus Prince complied, once more claiming Hazel’s mouth with his. 

She wanted more. In any other circumstances, she would probably die of embarrassment before even attempting something like that, but with the addition of liquid courage, all seemed possible, all seemed like a brilliant idea. She tugged on his shirt, pulling it from his pants.

Prince broke their kiss and bit her lightly on the ear. 

“Potter, what are you...” he didn’t finish the sentence, as one of Hazel’s curious hands dove beneath his shirt and the other unbuckled his belt. “Fuck.” The man’s hand lowered onto her ass.

“You sure about this?” he muttered into her ear, between light bites on the earlobe.

Hazel grinned in victory. “Yes.”

“Perhaps, it would be prudent to take this somewhere else.”

“ _Hero of War*_ ” was all that Hazel said and they both were tugged by a portkey. Prince steadied them as they landed in a well lit room. For a second, he looked confused, but then the look of confusion cleared and his gaze refocused. 

Hazel tugged him along out of the living room, to the bedroom at the end of the corridor. By the time they reached it, Severus has somehow managed to lose his tie and a couple of buttons on his shirt. He did manage to undo the zipper of her dress and her bra.

Prince threw his shirt on the ground and tugged lightly on Hazel’s dress. It fall around her, spread on the floor, together with the bra. 

She blushed, surprised that he managed to basically strip her. It left her mind quickly as he lifted her, while claiming her mouth again and with two quick strides she found herself being laid on a bed. 

He was on top of her, before she even took notice, touching her breast almost reverently, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. His mouth placed small kisses and nibbles on her neck, and she noticed that sometime in between, he got rid of his robes and remained only in his trousers.

As one of his hands pushed down Hazel’s thighs, she undid his pants and slipped her hand underneath, lightly touching his cock. He gasped, and satisfied, she curled her hand around him, squeezing. He groaned and move his mouth to one of her nipples, sucking and biting. 

It was almost too much. The sensations running through her bloody, setting her on fire with pleasure, arousal. Her back arched involuntarily and she heard a pleased chuckle emanating from his chest. Impatience rolled through her.

“More, please,” she begged, abandoning his cock and grasping his hair, bringing his head to kiss him.

He kissed her back, and tried to pull on her tights to have them finally removed. It only took a few seconds for him to get frustrated. Hazel felt a wash of magic around her and suddenly, they were both naked. 

Prince moved above her and Hazel felt his cock sliding against her by now dripping pussy. She bucked her hips against him. Her hand without any conscious thought down to his penis, but he intercepted it. 

"If you touch me now, my performance will be very disappointing," he muttered into her ear. 

Hazel didn't think his performance could be disappointing at that point, but she decided not to argue. 

And then, his fingers ran lightly, teasingly over her clit. It introduced a whole new different world of pleasure. 

"Oh," she heard herself saying. 

"Like that, yes?" he whispered. 

"Yes, please, yes," she agreed fervently. 

He bit her ear at the same time as his fingers pushed into her heat, and all conscious thoughts left her again. 

There was only feeling, heat sprawling, hips bucking, her hands going to his hair and neck. 

"Exquisite," she thought she heard him say. 

Hazel didn't take much notice, her body pliant in his hands, vaguely hearing herself spilling a litany of _pleases_ , _yeses_ and _mores_. 

It only stopped when he took out his fingers and lined up his cock to her entrance. She bucked down, trying to get him into her, but his hand on her hip stopped her. 

"Slowly," Severus said, his hot breath tickling her ear. "I don't want to hurt you." 

He pushed excruciatingly slowly into her. Some small part of her mind not addled by the passion was impressed with his self control.

He let her adjust to the intrusion, before slowly withdrawing and thrusting back in. Soon, even his iron grip on himself started to crack, as his breathing became more rapid, and his thrusts become faster and harder. 

For Hazel, it did not matter, full of his cock with his hand rubbing her clit in the most wondrous way, his mouth claiming hers, she was climbing faster and faster towards orgasm. 

Heat polling, Prince pushed her over the edge by pinching her clit lightly. 

Intense pleasure made her vision swam. He thrust a couple more times, and came inside of her, his head sagging on her shoulder, breathing heavily. 

A few moments later, Hazel winced as he slipped out from her. Prince rolled over, pulling her with him. 

She landed on his chest, sleepy and content in post-coital bliss. 

"Are you alright?" Prince asked, his voice raspy and heavy. 

"Better than," she muttered into his chest sleepily. 

She managed enough awareness between her mild drunkenness and hormones hitting her brain to pull the covers around both of them. By the time she did, Severus' hand that was lightly petting her hair, dropped. 

The sleep claimed her almost instantly. 

***

The sound of the alarm clock slowly brought her to consciousness. _It’s my life**_ playing loudly next to her ear, signaling the start of a new day. She was warm and rested and didn’t really want to leave the sweet embrace of Morpheus. Somehow, she managed to sleep without any nightmares, but the bed beside her shifted and she slowly opened her eyes blinking. 

Severus Prince was slowly waking next to her. He was on his side, his arm across her uncovered belly. He looked at her blinking slightly and then his gaze moved to the alarm clock.

“Shit” he muttered. He untangled himself from her and the sheets. He stood completely naked and looked at her again. He seemed embarrassed, or at least awkward. Hazel didn’t think it had anything to do with his or her nakedness. More the situation. Regardless, it was a very unusual look on his face. Kinda sweet. Reminded her of the boy, she saw in his own memories during the battle of Hogwarts.

She searched her thoughts, only to find that she did not regret her insane decisions last night. Snape was gentle, kind, and, from what she had heard of the first-time experiences from other girls, damn good at sex. He obviously did not mind her inexperience too much. It was good to trust her own instincts. She was unlikely to find a man who she trusted, who wouldn’t try to use her, her vulnerability in those moments and beyond.

“I apologize, I must meet with my editor in half an hour,” Prince said.

“It’s alright. I, myself, have to visit Andromeda and Teddy soon,” Hazel responded, sitting up on her bed. 

She was a bit embarrassed by their nakedness, but figured that after last night, it did not really matter.

She watched as Severus Prince pulled on his pants. He was thin, but lightly muscled and his skin showed numerous scars running in all directions. Hazel had quite a lot of scars herself. From her uncle’s belt, from the war, but Severus had her beaten in that regard quite significantly. 

He blushed lightly when he realized she was watching him. And that, on Severus Snape, the indomitable Dungeon Bat, looked even weirder. 

He turned to her again, buttoning his silvery shirt. 

“Umm… about last night… I know you said it was alright...” now, that Hazel considered a major achievement. Severus Snape at a loss of what to say.

“It was” she interrupted him. As amusing as it was, she didn’t want him to feel guilty about having sex with her. She definitely wasn’t. And she was a damned Gryffindor. She could fucking admit it. “I may be young, but I haven’t been a child in a long time. I wanted it and I surmised you did too” he nodded slightly. “I trust you. And you don’t have to protect me anymore, Severus.”

He snorted at that.

“Not even from evil reporters and their cameras?”

She blushed at that.

“Maybe from that.”

He pulled his shoes on and Hazel stood up, wrapping herself in a bed sheet. Once again, he looked quite awkward.

“I will see you later…” he muttered. 

“Thank you for turning a miserable night into a pleasant one” she kissed him on the cheek.

He nodded curtly, still obviously not knowing what to say and left. She heard him using a floo in the living room a couple moments later. 

She sat back on the bed. It was an unexpected turn of events, but she had spoken the truth. Hazel trusted Severus Prince implicitly. Trusted him to protect her from the reporters and to not go to the Daily Prophet or gossip about bedding the Girl Who Conquered. Trusted him enough to sleep with him in her bed. And that perhaps surprised her the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Hero of War" is of course a song by Rise Against  
> **"It's my life" is of course a song by Bon Jovi


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is posted fast, but only because I was off for the holidays. So, the rest will be coming much slower (I will try for once every other week, but I cannot promise it).
> 
> Anyway, since you guys seemed to enjoy the first chapter, let's try the second one.
> 
> Cheers!  
> L.

_Don’t bend. Don’t break. Baby, don’t back down!*_

Now, this damned song was stuck in his head. His life was already a fucking mess. And now, it took a bizarre, almost surreal turn.

Severus Snape had sex with Hazel _I am too damn stubborn to die_ Potter. Unexpected was one way of putting it. He was going to hell. He fucked the Girl Who Lived. Lily was going to come back to life just to turture him to death. Albus… Albus would have his balls, if he were alive. Severus might have even let them.

_And she was very bloody likely a virgin! I deflowered the Wizarding World’s precious savior._

He cursed himself. How could he have been so unbelievably stupid?

 _But she was willing…_ muttered a traitorous voice in the back of his head.

She was willing. Very willing. Pliant and so responsive in his hands. She initiated the whole thing. And she didn’t look very ashamed or full of regret this morning. Surprisingly not, even though both of them were somewhat drunk the night prior. Of course, she was a bloody Gryffindor, rushing into every damn thing, without thinking first.

But then, what was his excuse? That she wanted it? He was a damned adult, he should have known better. 

_Oh, but she is an adult too…_ muttered the voice. _A very pretty one too._

“Severus!” the voice of Marcus, his agent of sorts, brought him out of his thoughts. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Forgive me, Marcus. I was lost in thought.”

“No kidding. First, you are late, and now you aren’t even listening to a word I am saying.”

They were sitting in an upscale Muggle restaurant. One of Severus’ favorites. He was the one who insisted on meeting in the Muggle World. He just wasn’t ready to deal with all the circus of Wizarding World celebrating two years of freedom. Nor was he willing to be accosted by grateful witches and wizards. Somewhere, somehow, being a hero made him less scary and more approachable than before. Of course, he wasn’t. He was usually growling at people who dared to bother him on the street.

“What is wrong with you, my friend?” Marcus asked. “Never in many years we have known each other have I known you to be late. Or lost in thoughts for the matter. You are usually uncannily aware of your surroundings, although I guess it comes from being a spy.”

Marcus Emmanuel West was a Halfblood Ravenclaw, who was only two years behind Severus in Hogwarts, and although they weren’t friends during school time, they were acquaintances, and rekindled their contact after the second war with the Dark Lord. Marcus was working in a publishing business and after Severus asked him about publishing some of his work, the man basically took it upon himself to connect him with everyone worth knowing in a business and run interference on his behalf. After the second month, Severus started paying him.

“I forgot to prepare a hangover potion and may have drunk a bit too much last night,” the lie slipping easily, even as Marcus looked at him sceptically, as if Severus Snape, _Prince, damn it_ , could never forget such a thing. It was time for misdirection. “Why are we meeting on the biggest holiday of the year, anyway? Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your family?”

Marcus grimaced at that.

He was a Halfblood, but married a Pureblood from an offshoot branch of some smaller family. Severus could never remember his wife’s maiden name, but he thought that some great uncle of her was a Baron or something. Nevertheless, they were not involved in the Dark Lord’s regime and kept a low profile during the war. 

“My mother-in-law has come to _celebrate_ with us and the kids. I threw you under the bus and said you insisted on meeting today.”

Ah, that explained it. Marcus’ mother-in-law believed her precious, little princes Anastasia married below her station, when she picked fifteen year older man. Even though, by then Marcus has managed to build a very successful business in publishing, not only producing his own books, although primarily in literature, but also consulting and being an agent for quite a few famous authors, who did not fit his company.

He became rich through his own merit, and Severus thought it was better than being a layabout Pureblood heir with less sense than money. Anastasia’s family wasn’t rich or powerful enough to secure a hand of a Nott, not to mention a Malfoy or a Black. Marcus provided her with a much better lifestyle and more security than some second son of a second son would.

“As long as you keep your dear wife from murdering me the next time I am over at yours. I would rather not face her wrath.”

Marcus chuckled. Anastasia was a thin wisp of a woman, even after having three children, a real blessing for a Pureblood. She was also absolutely terrifying when she wanted to be.

“Don’t worry. I am sure she knows I was just making excuses. If anyone has to worry, it is me,” he looked at Severus speculatively. “So how was mingling with the high and mighty last night?”

“Annoying. Mindless fools concerned only with their own rise to power. Utterly, mind-numbingly dull,” well it was. Until Hazel Potter turned everything upside down. “I sincerely wish that Kingsley had not blackmailed me into it.” That, at least, was one hundred percent true.

“Oh, poor, famous, rich Severus. On the first name basis with the Minister of Magic.How could you ever survive being fawned over by every woman in the room? Such a terrible life to be a genius hero.”

“Very funny, Marcus. I take no enjoyment out of being hounded by mindless sycophants, who would turn on me the moment it suited them. Not to mention half of them still think I am an evil Death Eater.”

“Well, I do hope that you are not going to skip Saint Mungo's charity event. You have already agreed to make a speech on Dark Magic exposure treatment and recovery.”

“Yes, I am aware of that particular commitment that you roped me into,” Severus drawled. “It’s the least painful out of the three I have to attend this month.”

“Three?”

“The informal Battle of Hogwarts survivors meeting next week is the third. Minerva said she would pull me by my ears out of my house, should I dare not show up. It is mostly exclusive to Order Members and whatever Potter’s student organization was called.”

“Ah, of course. That should be fun.”

“We have very different definitions of _fun_.”

“You don’t take any joy in life, do you, my friend?”

Did he? Probably not. The last twenty years were a string of pain, loneliness and disappointment. After the war… he never meant to survive it, but yet again it seemed Fate had to screw him over. He was looking at another hundred, hundred fifty years of feeling trapped in his own life, purposeless.

“I enjoy hearing about how my next book is doing and when it will be published,” he said instead.

“Well, Williamson & Sons has accepted the manuscript. They will be doing the editing on it straight away, so we are looking at 3-4 months before we can go to print. So, we are looking at late November to mid December to have it in stores.”

Severus nodded.

“It is a brilliant book, my friend. However, having a title would be prudent.”

Title. Right. Severus wasn’t particularly inventive when it came to those. Quite the opposite.

“Just pick something. I have no wish to waste my time pondering that. It is the content that is crucial.”

Marcus rolled his eyes, just as the waiter brought them their lunch.

“You are by far my most infuriating client.”

Severus ignored him and picked up his knife and fork, cutting the meal into small pieces efficiently. He picked a random thing on the menu, not caring what he was eating.

“How about _The Treatise on the Nature of Dark Arts_?”

Severus shrugged. As good as any.

“I see I will get no input from you on this,” sighed Marcus. “It is a lost cause for me to try, isn’t it?”

Severus shrugged again.

“ _The Treatise on the Nature of Dark Arts_ it is then.”

“I do not imagine that the title will be the key to entice the larger populus to purchase the book.”

“Of course not. They will see the name _Severus Prince_ and buy it regardless. I mean your first book sold out in a matter of days. And it was on Potions! I am sure most people who bought it do not have the background to actually appreciate it. I certainly got lost more than once, and I got an O on my NEWTs. I think that book is probably best read by healers and potion masters or specialists, not the general public. This one though… It’s very academic, but people are more than familiar with the topic due to the war. Even more will be interested in your view on it.”

“Perhaps,” allowed Severus.

“They are also giving you a generous cut of 15% of royalties for the first 2000 copies, and 17.5% for anything above that.”

“If the Prince family was not well-off, I would have to find a day job,” muttered Severus.

“Probably. Authors do not make a lot of money, unless the books are very successful. Although, your books are successful. I have no doubt that you will be able to pass that 2000 easily. Currently, the publisher is planning about thirty thousand copies for the first print at the price of 5 galleons.”

“Decent.”

“Indeed. That would give me roughly 26 thousand galleons, if all of them are sold.”

“I have no doubt. Everyone at Williamson is very enthusiastic about the book. The reviewers are positive of its great potential, not just because you are the author. You write very good books, Severus.”

Severus nodded his head at the compliment. 

“Now that the details are covered, my wife insists that you join us for dinner on Friday next week.”

Severus opened his mouth to refuse the invitation.

“Nope, I won’t hear it,” Marcus stopped him in his tracks. “You are coming, the kids have been asking when will _Uncle Sev_ visit again. You don’t have an excuse of working for at least a few weeks. I know that you are not going to start working on the next book right away and you have enough papers written to satisfy _Potions Monthly_ and _Essential Healer_ for the next ten years.”

“Fine, I shall amuse Anastasia, if I must keep in her good graces,” Severus said resigned.

“You better. And don’t lie, I know you are not that opposed to the kids. They love you. Probably because you spoil them with presents.”

“It would be impolite to show up without proper offerings,” Severus said stiffly. 

“Oh, relax, my friend. I know Julius Prince drummed good manners into you, when you were sixteen, but you should lighten up a bit. Maybe you just need a wife and some kids of your own,” Marcus teased him lightly, but deep inside Severus froze.

_Kids!_

Was Potter smart enough to take precautions yesterday? He definitely did not see to it. Or at least he didn’t remember doing so. What a damned fool he was. How could he have forgotten the fucking contraception spell? He wasn’t an oaf to believe only women were responsible for ensuring safe sex. And he was vastly more experienced than Potter in matters of sexual intercourse. Was he that preoccupied that a pretty girl wanted to sleep with him that his brain turned to mush? Even as a teenager he has never done something so ridiculously dumb.

What if he had gotten her pregnant? 

“Severus? Are you sure you are alright?” Marcus inquired again. “You went silent all of a sudden.” 

“I am fine,” he muttered.

She _was_ a trained mediwitch, right? A Healer-in-training. She would know about contraception, wouldn’t she? Then again, she was also a Potter. A brash Gryffindor.

Well, he couldn’t do anything about it now, could he? If she was pregnant, she would undoubtedly tell him and then he could make her a potion or something. Or support her if she was pregnant and decided to keep the child. Severus would never shrink responsibility.

_Fuck!_

Well, it was done. No use crying over spilt milk. He could rage about his stupidity later in the privacy of Spinner’s End.

“I am not interested in having a wife.”

“A shame for sure. You know as well as I do that it is expected of you.”

“I am not going to surrender my life to society's expectations.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to. Nevertheless, it is easier not to go through life alone, my friend. To find solace in others, to find refugee in one’s family.”

“I have managed for forty years without, I will manage from here,” growled Severus.

Marcus held up his hands in surrender.

“All I am saying, that you were a spy for twenty years, that is not productive life for having a stable relationships. And I know you have had relationships before, Severus.”

It wasn’t the point. Not really. What was he to do? Agree to one of the numerous proposals for an arranged marriage with people he wasn’t even remotely interested in? Go for a Muggle girl who had no clue? How could he trust them not to use him for his money or the fame he somehow acquired after the war? For his name? How could he ever trusted all of them not to betray him if things got though, if the still rampant Death Eaters got to whomever he picked?

Not to mention most of the available women that Severus had gotten proposals for were his former students and close to half his age.

 _That did not stop you from sleeping with Hazel Potter, did it?_ asked a traitorous voice in his head.

“I am much too busy for a relationship.”

Marcus nodded knowingly, but dropped the subject, preferring to move on rather than aggravate Severus further. It wasn’t the first time his friend has broached the subject, but it was by far the most blatant one, discounting this one time when Marcus’ wife introduced his to wide-eyed twenty year old cousin, who was so in awe of him that Severus nearly run from the dinner they invited him to without saying goodbye.

Severus excused himself as soon as he was able after that, claiming an experiment he wanted to perform.

He didn’t have anything really. He just wanted to get out of there and ponder how his life had turned upside down.

Casting the disillusioning charm, he wandered into Diagon Alley. As he expected, it was full of people. One of the Ministry plans to revitalize the economy was to put up a carnival of sorts on the anniversary of the Final Battle. The Alley was decorated in blinding colors, merchants were screaming at the crowds, showing off their wares, Ministry aurors parading in formal uniforms, the portraits of the heroes (including himself) staring at the crowd from the walls and windows of the Alley’s shops.

Severus had no idea why he actually chose to come. He was tired. Exhausted to the point of breaking. After the war life seemed overwhelming. His mind healer, Jeremy Hill, that Minerva dragged him to after he did not get out of bed for a week after being discharged from Saint Mungos, claimed that Severus never had the time to grow up, to transform from a teenager who took the Dark Mark into a healthy adult. He did not have to opportunity to learn how to form adult relationships between teaching in a boarding school by day and courting monsters by night. Being in a permanent state of readiness to fight had taken a toll on him, not to mention heightened paranoia due to all the years of lies and deceit.

He also thought that Severus was suffering from PTSD. Severus thought Jeremy was full of shit, but he went to each appointment, because the potions he prescribed helped him sleep and function. 

He moved swiftly through the colorful crowd, avoiding running children, parents, who were chasing after them, merchants, who were aggressively pushing their goods towards the kids. 

At least the carnival seemed to be a success. Maybe Kingsley would stop hounding him for more participation in the society. 

As he walked, he heard a loud voice.

“People, people! Listen, people! Breaking news! Hazel Potter rejects a proposal by her friend and fellow war hero, Ronald Weasley! Listen, people! Ronald Weasly rejected by Hazel Potter! A Weasley’s proposal rejected by the Girl Who Conquered! By Rita Skeeter! Only in the Daily Prophet!”

That was unexpected. Also, would probably make the Saturday very awkward and uncomfortable affair. Severus did not think that four days would be enough for the redhead idiot to overcome his fury at his humiliation being exposed for the entire nation. The boy was childish, jealous and unable to withstand any criticism. Out of all of his family, Ronald Weasley was the one he disliked the most. 

He dropped a couple of coins and grabbed the paper.

 ** _POTTER REJECTS HER BEST FRIENDS SUIT!_** it read.

**_Last night during the Second Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts Ball, the Girl Who Conquered, Hazel Potter-Black was rejected a marriage proposal from her long time friend and a fellow war hero - Ronald B. Weasley, Rita Skeeter reports._ **

_As most of us were celebrating the Second Anniversary of the Fall of You Know Who at the hands of Hazel Potter-Black, the Girl Who Lived, a conversation between our darling Saviour and Ronald B. Weasley, a war hero and a participant of the Battle of Hogwarts took place._

_Mister Weasley, a sixth son of Arthur Weasely, Head of the_ _Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects_ _, and Molly Weasley, has joined the Auror Division as a trainee just after the war and has recently passed all the required exams to become a full auror in the graduation next week (on more on the recent Auror Division’s staffing problems read page 3.). Mister Weasley comes from impoverished Pureblood family, and as such all of his brothers and a sister have been forced to acquire occupation usually held by Halfbloods and Muggleborns, with the exception of the head of the family, as well as Percy Weasley, who was serving as a Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and is currently serving as a Head of Department of Magical Transportation._

_Mister Ronald B. Weasley has also been a lifelong friend of Hazel Potter, a friendship that formed during their first year at Hogwarts._

_After many years of friendship, it was not unusual for Mister Weasley to request a conversation from Hazel Potter during the ball. However, as our inside source claims, Miss Potter-Black’s idea of their friendship turned out to be quite different than Mr. Weasleys. During the conversation, Mr. Weasley explained to Miss Potter-Black that he is set to graduate the auror training, and as such would be able to support young couple in their life, without the necessity of Hazel completing her degree and working as a healer. Following that, Mr. Weasley proposed marriage between the two young heroes._

_Unfortunately, he did not receive the answer he was looking for. Despite the kiss he bestowed on the Girl Who Conquered, she was not convinced. Citing the lack of romantic love for her friend, Hazel Potter Black rejected the suit._

_It is, of course, understandable in her position to reject Mr. Weasley’s suit, as Miss Potter-Black is an heiress to two major fortunes - Potter and Black. Her estimated worth is well into hundreds of millions of galleons, a life style, Mr. Weasley cannot hope to provide her on an Auror salary. Miss Potter-Black also refused to abandon her studies, future job and bear children for him._

_At that the conversation escalated to an argument, with Mr. Weasley resorting to using slurs against his friend and slapping her on the face. Miss Hazel Potter-Black refused to be intimidated, throwing Mr. Weasley against the wall with her magic and leaving the room._

_Once Mr. Weasley came to himself, he found himself abandoned in the room, stunned and rejected by his friend._

_Well, there you have it, folks! Miss Hazel Potter-Black is still unattached after her rejection of Mr. Weasley. A right man can undoubtedly sweep her off her feet, but it is clear that Mr. Weasley is not the right man for our hero._

_More on Hazel Potter-Black’s role in the war and subsequent studies in Healing at the Magical University of London read page 3._

_More on the Weasley Family read page 6._

Below was a picture of obviously furious Weasley slapping Hazel Potter and her throwing him into the wall and walking out without a single glance back at her friend.

Severus snorted. _Sweep Hazel Potter-Black off her feet. Good luck with that._

The girl had a fiery spirit, as witnessed by the picture. It was very doubtful that she would simply submit to whoever she picked as a husband.

 _She was quite willing to submit to you, though._ Severus quashed the voice in his head violently. Hazel Potter was not for him, regardless of what happened the night before.

He was right, however, this was going to cause no end of trouble at the Order meeting in four days. Not only would Weasley be embarrassed about being rejected, but also about being thrown into the wall by a wisp of a girl, no matter who she was. Big auror defeated by a healing student. Not to mention the fact that it was heavily implied, if not stated outright, that he was simply not good enough for her.

He felt that the coming meeting would be as entertaining as it would be a headache.

_Well, he can only blame himself for this humiliation. He should have put up privacy charms. Some Auror!_

He took the newspaper and left the Alley.

He apparated back to his home at Spinner’s End. He hated that place with passion when he was younger. It was a prison of violence and misery. He still hated it, but it was familiar. The same old, grey walls, paint falling off in some places. The same furniture, barely holding together under the weight of his many books and their age. 

He had enough money to move, enough property that he could be very picky. He owned a manor house, beach house, apartments in London and on the continent, some cottages scattered around the countryside.

He should have moved. Jeremy was constantly telling his so. The problem was that almost nobody knew the location of his house. The Malfoys knew, but he hardly expected Narcissa to show up and Bellatrix was dead. Draco… Draco and him hadn’t talked in two years. Minerva knew as well, but she wouldn’t invade his privacy unless she was convinced something was wrong. That was it. No one else had his home address. 

Severus could probably hide the change in the address, but he didn’t think he could handle a change in scenery. He wouldn’t know the weaknesses of the place, wouldn’t know all the entrances and he wouldn’t be able to learn an emergency exit strategy by memory.

So, maybe he was paranoid. So what? _Just because you were paranoid, it didn’t mean they weren’t out to get you_ , to paraphrase a famous Muggle author.

Severus made it and sat down on a couch, that was probably only holding together by magic. No, leaving was incomprehensible. Where would he go anyway? And why? Spinner’s End served his purpose. The roof did not leak and Severus had it memorized to perfection.

7 steps to cross the kitchen, 13 to cross the hallway, 11 steps to reach upstairs, 3rd and 7th of those made cracking noises when stepped on and should be avoided. Second story windows in master bedroom and his old bedroom led to a roof above porch that could be jumped from if necessary. 5 steps from the kitchen to yard door, covered with a curtain, then 4 steps to the neighbor's fence, can be scaled within 15 seconds. 2 steps to the another’s neighbor fence from the kitchen window. Entrance to the basement in the yard and in the kitchen. 5 steps to connect to hidden door in the basement to the sewers. 173 steps north to the sewer’s exit. 467 steps south to another exit. Emergency potions to cause fire could be triggered from both downstairs and upstairs and then, 50 seconds to vacate the property. Well within the limits.

Every single thing about the house (and the escape routes) was etched in Severus’ memory. He had twenty years of training, after all.

He repeated the mantra in a futile attempt to escape the memory of Hazel Potter-Black beneath him. It worked usually. The soothing repetition was usually very effective into putting unwanted thoughts out of his brain and strengthening his Occlumency shields. 

Not today. He just couldn't get her out of his thoughts. Was he that lonely? That purposeless? 

She was so young. Innocent. At least when it came to sex. Did he sleep with her because he didn't have anyone since the Dark Lord returned? Six years, was it? Something like that. Marcus and Jeremy were right in one instance. Spying was not conducive to healthy relationships or any relationships. 

But neither was sleeping with Hazel Potter-Black. If he were any other man, he would probably count it as the biggest mistake of his life. Unfortunately, for how stupid he was now, he was even stupider as a teenager, so it didn’t even crack the top ten.

He was lonely, that was definitely true, but to just jump into bed with a pretty girl, because she smiled at you. Well, smiled, kissed you and seemed very much into it. Severus wasn’t the type to be pursued by pretty, young girls. Well, at least not when they weren’t trying to marry him for his money. Not Hazel Potter, the girl whose life he had made miserable for six years without any cause that she could be aware of. Not the daughter of his very best friend, one he swore to protect.

And yet here he was. He was bloody awkward that morning, wasn’t he? Couldn’t string up one sentence together. She stunned him to silence more than once. That was the first for many, many years for Severus, if one discounted crazy shit that Albus spewed.

_Admirable really. So young, yet not regretful. Convinced that it was fine. Owned the whole situation. When I barely managed to put my pants on without stumbling over. Fuck!_

He was in way too deep. He had to forget about the whole and move on with his life. Or what was left of it.

He was just so tired these days. More so than he had ever been during the war with spying, teaching, brewing. His days were empty and could be spent at his leisure, and yet he sometimes felt this overwhelming exhaustion combined with dread that prevented him from moving, cleaning, eating. An aching emptiness in place where his soul should be. His arms and legs felt heavy, like made out of stone. His mind numbed to everyone and everything. The thought of getting up and facing the world made him choke on his own breath, filled with dread. At times he felt like crying and screaming at the very thought. 

_I don't wanna! Please leave me be!_

The chores became impossible to complete. He wanted to hide, to disappear into the soothing darkness where nobody would want to talk to him. 

He had to move. Get away from the destructive thoughts. He gulped down Dreamless Sleep potion and fell onto his bed. It was only a bit after 2 o'clock, but he just wasn't up for it. 

***

The next few days past with few chores to be taken care of for Severus. He managed to regain some of his balance after sixteen hours of sleep. He edited some of the articles he selected for publication in the near future. By Thursday night, he somehow managed to put Hazel Potter-Black out of his mind. Mostly with a heavy use of Occlumency. 

That was another habit his mind healer was against. _You cannot run from your problems, Severus. Hiding behind your Occlumency walls was appropriate for a spy, but for a productive member of a society, it is not! It’s not healthy for you!_ he would say.

His peace was disturbed by Minerva McGonagall on Friday morning.

 _Dear Severus,_ the letter he received read.

_I am hopeful that you are doing well. I apologize for not contacting you for the last few weeks and cancelling on our Saturday tea two weeks ago, however with the reopening of Hogwarts in the autumn, I was otherwise occupied._

_However, I would like to invite you today at your convenience to my house, if you would be so kind. I have a few matters to discuss with you, old friend. I am aware that this is a very short notice, but I would appreciate if we could meet before tomorrow._

_Your friend,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Severus sighted and wrote a quick note back, accepting the meeting. Knowing Minerva she would force her way into his home, should he not respond. 

He could guess what it was about. Hogwarts, for once. Miner a probably wanted him to come back as a teacher. That would never happen. He might have agreed to being Hogwarts' supplier of potions. Maybe. He would have to think about it. 

The only other reason Minerva might have wanted to speak to him was the Potter-Weasley situation. Undoubtedly, there were concerns and Minerva, as the current head of the order and a host of the gathering, would want to avoid any major confrontations. However, she would probably contact Hazel… _Potter…_ directly. Or talk to Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. They were much better options than him to handle the insipid boy's fury. 

"Impetuous fool. Should have made certain of the woman's feelings instead of jumping straight to the proposal," he muttered to himself. 

Severus had never liked the boy. It wasn't because he was a Weasley. He got along fine with William and Charles. Both of them were good, diligent students and grew up to be respectable adults, successful in their chosen professions. Something Severus valued far above having rich ancestors. And if he knew anything about Hazel Potter at all, so did she. He couldn't stand Percy. Too much ambition with too little sense and no moral spine whatsoever. Severus didn't understand how Molly and Arthur had such a child. The twins were a menace, but extremely creative. He could appreciate that, even if it caused him endless headaches as their teachers. Ginevra was tolerable. Also a diligent student. He heard some rumours that she wasn't behaving like a proper Pureblood, having a string of boyfriends, but that was her business. 

Ronald on the other hand. Ronald Weasley was the only child of Molly and Arthur to be lazy, inattentive, uninspiring. He was also jealous and disloyal on multiple occasions and disloyalty was something Severus Snape did not forgive or forget. He couldn't really understand why Hazel did. The first time, during the Triwizarding Tournament was… understandable. But during the Horcrux hunt. And now he slapped her. 

Severus would probably break the boy's arm if he ever saw him slapping a woman. This woman or any other. He had enough of that from his father. 

Hazel could protect herself, of course, but Severus would prefer if she didn't have to. 

With a sigh of resignation, Severus got up. Minerva awaited. And likely he would want it over and done with as soon as possible. 

***

Minerva McGonagall's cottage was located in Hogsmeade. Severus would have preferred to never see it or Hogwarts ever again, but Fate was rarely accommodating to him. 

He walked under the disillusionment charm, studiously avoiding the sight of the castle. It was his home for so many years. And it was irrevocably linked with his worst memories. Him calling Lily a Mudblood, him overhearing the prophecy and relaying it to the Dark Lord, him killing Albus. He had no desire to return. 

He approached Minerva's door and knocked. From what he knew about the cottage, Minerva used to live there with her husband until his death sometime in the 80s. She probably wasn't happy about returning there. She moved back to the castle almost immediately following Ephinstone's death. 

The door opened, revealing a house elf. 

"Master Professor Snape Sir!" the tiny creature squeaked. 

"Just take me to Minerva," he ordered immediately. 

"Right away, Master Professor Snape Sir!" 

_I am going to have a headache after this, aren't I?_ Severus thought to himself as he followed the elf to the living room. 

He had never been to the cottage. It was rather tastefully decorated, without Gryffindor's red or gold. 

As he entered the living room, Minerva looked up from a stack of papers. One of them, because papers covered pretty much the entire surface area of the table. 

"Severus, good to see you," she greeted him. 

He nodded curtly. 

"Would you like some tea and cookies?" she offered. 

"Tea would be perfect, thank you," just because he rarely used manners didn't mean he didn't have them. 

The elf with full tea set appeared. 

"Hogwarts' papers?" he inquired waving his hand in the general direction of the table. 

"Yes, if I only knew how much work it would get to get Hogwarts up and running again, I would never let you resign," she smiled gently at him. 

_I would rather go to Azkaban,_ Severus thought. 

"No, thank you. I had my fair share under the Dark Lord." 

"I know and I understand. However…" 

Severus did not let her finish the sentence. 

"I will stop you right there," he took a sip of tea handed to him by the house elf. "There is nothing that could convince me to come back to teaching. There is no way in hell." 

Minerva nodded thoughtfully, although she could not quite hide her disappointment. 

"Straight to the point as always. I have expected this answer. I was going to ask you about that later, though." 

"Trying to soften me up before going in for the kill. How Slytherin of you." 

"No, I was rather trying to go from the easiest request to the hardest. But first I wanted to know how you were, Severus."

Ah, the question. Minerva obviously knew that he was somewhat… lost after the war. Severus' problem wasn't that though. She had seen him at his best and at his worst over the last 30 years and she never judged apart from when he killed Albus. The problem was that Severus had never quite understood what answer did Minerva expect when she was asking him such questions. Did she want a soothing lie? A tirade of how Dumbledore was the worst thing that happened to the Wizarding World? A simple _fine, how are you_ just to move the conversation along? The truth? He wasn't sure he himself knew that. Maybe Jeremy was right, maybe he was stuck at the maturity level of a teenager in many ways. 

And even if she wanted the truth, he couldn't very well tell her. 

_My life stopped making any sort of sense. I cannot get out of my bed on bad days, I cannot sleep without the aid of potions. I have advanced paranoia and daily nightmares about killing Lily and Albus. I live in a ruin of a house and yes, recently I engaged in a sexual intercourse with my former student and I am old enough to be her father. I am actually as old as her father would have been if I didn't inadvertently cause his death some 20 years ago. That sounds about right._

"I am perfectly fine, Minerva. I have just finished my second book. _The Treatise on the Nature of Dark Arts,_ Marcus’ idea for the title. Should come out in a couple of months." 

Minerva's mouth thinned. 

"You are possibly even worse than Hazel." 

"Hazel?" _What?!_

"Hazel Potter-Black. I am sure you remember." he definitely remembered. Where the hell was Minerva going with this? "Both of you lie way too easily to people who care about you. Suffering in silence, unable to accept help, two proud idiots." 

"I have no idea what you mean, Minerva." And he was in no way going to discuss Hazel Potter-Black. His paranoia was starting to get in the way. There was no reason for Hazel to discuss her sex life with her former professor. He was a good damn idiot, wasn't he?.

"I don’t believe Hazel when she swears to be completely fine and I don't believe you now. You two are so similar that it is no wonder you never got along." 

"I guess you will have to live with your disbelief, won't you?" 

Minerva threw him a look that made him tremble a bit inside a bit despite the fact he was not her student for over 20 years. 

"You do not fool anyone, Severus. You have completely isolated yourself. That cannot be healthy." 

"I see you pretty much bi-weekly and Marcus, my editor," he protested. It was a weak defense, but better than talking about Miss Potter-Black. Why has everyone insisted on bringing up damned topics that Severus had no interest discussing? 

"Severus, you have spent the last 20 years fighting a war. Maybe, I and other people who care about you wish that now after everything is over, you lived a little. The life that you should have had 20 years ago, had You Know Who not risen to power. That's all."

She wasn't exactly his mother, but she was the closest he would ever get. Probably closer than Severus' own, who had sort of checked out of his life by the time he was seven. He blamed constant beatings and abuse, but it did not change the fact that at seven Severus had been pretty much left to his own devices. 

Minerva cared. He knew she did, but he just didn't have a good answer for her.

"I am better than I was, but adjusting is hard," he admitted that much. 

Minerva's expression softened. 

"Thank you, Severus, for that honesty. I know it is not easy. And I want you to know that I am here for you. Others are as well." 

Severus doubted that last one, but did not say it. 

"Now that we have pleasantries out of the way, what is the purpose of my visit here?" 

_It is always tricky talking to Minerva,_ mused Severus. And it was. From all the people Severus cared about, she was one of the last left standing. She was also genuinely invested in his life. She cared. And Severus rarely could bring himself to lie to her. Severus loved Minerva. Loved her for all the support for all those years. Loved for her forgiveness. Loved for her apologizes for the Marauders and believing he had betrayed them.

As much as he loved Albus, he also hated him equally. Maybe even more so there at the end. It was difficult to hate Minerva. Minerva’s forgiveness was not conditional. Minerva’s support was not manipulative.

And it made his pretense so much more challenging. And any refusal almost impossible. 

So, an hour later, when he left her house, he had agreed to a speech during Hogwarts’ reopening and to keep an eye on Hazel Potter-Black and Ronald Weasley the next day. “Just in case,” Minerva had said.

He sighed. He just couldn’t get a break, could he?

At least he only had two more engagements that he couldn’t possibly miss, before he could bury himself in his research. At least until August. It would serve him.

He spent the evening crafting a speech for the Saint Mungo's Annual Charity Event. Before he was a hero, he was never invited. The hospital was happy enough to buy highly advanced potions from him, but not to grant him a speech at one of the most prestigious events in Potions and Healing in the entire country, the others being Annual Conference of Potion Masters of Great Britain and Great Britain’s Healer’s Symposium. Of course, he had also not been publishing any of his research for the last twenty years, but still. In the first years after the war, no one wanted to be associated with him, nor publish any of his research, despite Dumbledore’s assertions that he was a spy. Later on, he didn’t want to publish anything, for fear of it being used against him once the Dark Lord returned.

Now he was being published and invited to all three British conferences, and not only those. He was highly sought out by international events as well. It seemed that the last twenty years did not matter, and only his Order of Merlin, first class, did.

Now, that he had everything he could have ever, he found it shallow and empty. Depression and PTSD, Jeremy would say.

_Fuck you, Jeremy._

_***_

On Saturday morning Severus was rudely awoken by an owl with a letter from Minerva at eight o’clock.

_Remember about the party! Don’t you even dare not to show up or I will drag you here myself! Dressed or not!_

_Minerva_

Short and to the point. Just like his friend. Severus wasn’t particularly worried. It was still hours before the party was supposed to start and he had speeches to polish.

In spite of wanting to go back to bed, Jeremy had him on pretty tight schedule when it came to waking up and going to sleep. 8:30 wake up call, maximum 1 o’clock for going to bed, meds to be taken at the latest at 7 and no earlier than 5. Otherwise his days would go out of sync with the actual days and hen would have even less incentive to get out of bed.

After all, why get up at all if it was already 4 in the afternoon, right?

Despite everything, Severus at least attempted to listen to Jeremy. He wasn’t really suicidal, just tired of life and the healer’s treatment seemed to be helping him with meeting deadlines and ensuring he had eaten and paid his bills, so it was worth something at least.

Of course, the spring and autumn party seasons set him all out of order. Especially lately. He was fairly sure that on Monday night he had not gotten to bed until well after three o’clock, if he accounted for the time when he watched the fireworks and later went to Grimmauld Place with Hazel Potter.

He tried to put her out of his mind, so he focused on his most pressing speech. By the time it was time to leave for the party, Severus had almost managed to convince himself to lock down the house and hide from Minerva.

He had no desire to engage in hours of mindless small talk. Nevertheless, it was very likely that Minerva would actually drag him out of his house. She wasn’t a woman easily crossed.

With that thought in mind, he got dressed into semi-formal robes and apparated to the large cottage, formerly owned by Albus Dumbledore and now by the Order of the Phoenix, which really meant Minerva as she was its head.

It was a beautiful property bordering the forest of Dean. Severus looked up at the house. The crowd was already gathering there. A bunch of his former students and colleagues. 

Severus sighed. He couldn’t get any rest even after that blasted war ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"Don’t bend. Don’t break. Baby, don’t back down!" is a quote from "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter is here, the fourth is almost written, but I would expect it to be posted either next weekend or the weekend after that, since I like to go over them a couple times.
> 
> I was just thinking that my chapters are way too long. 3 chapters over 28k words? Probably the longest ones I have ever written.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Best,  
> L

Andromeda Tonks was not particularly amused when Hazel showed up for lunch. Rather the opposite. Thankfully, it wasn’t because of Hazel being ten minutes late.

Apparently, her alteration with Ronald the day before had made it to the front page of the Daily Prophet. _By Rita Skeeter,_ obviously. The despicable, disgusting woman would never leave her alone.

“What can I say? I am not going to become Ron’s broodmare,” she said once she read the article. “No matter what pureblood society expects.”

Andromeda sighed. 

“No, I would not expect you to do so. I understand you, Hazel. I really do not blame you for refusing him. I refused my parents, partially because I was in love with Ted, but also because I wanted to become a healer. I wanted to have freedom to be how I wanted to be. Regardless of the society’s opinion on pureblood heiresses, I do not think that he would be a right match for you. I did not expect you to know of this particular quirk of high wizarding society.”

“Ah, Duke Prince was kind enough to explain.”

“Ah, Severus, another misfit in this whole show. Although, he got his education from his grandfather, Julius Prince, I cannot imagine him bending over to the traditions.”

Hazel decided that speaking about Severus Prince was probably not wise. Andromeda has been a Slytherin and read her way too easily at times. “Why don’t you think Ron would not be a good match for me?” she changed the subject.

"Mister Weasley is a typical representative of what makes up a pureblood. The Weasleys might be poor, nevertheless they uphold the majority of pureblood traditions. On some levels they are not that different from the Malfoys. You need someone who would be a partner for you, who is more modern, a Half-blood or a Muggleborn. Somebody that won't expect you to sit at home, raise the children and be pretty and silent. Rather, you should look for someone who would share the household burden, allowing you to realize yourself in your career, support you rather than direct you. " 

"Really? I thought the Weasley family was everything contrary to the Malfoys," Hazel was rather surprised by the harsh judgement of the Weasley's. She was always under the impression that they were rather progressive part of the Wizarding Society. 

Andromeda looked at her as if she was a naive teenager. Which she probably was. 

"They are more open, tolerant, and they might celebrate Christmas instead of Yule, but Molly Weasley have not worked a day in her life. that French girl, Fleur, had stopped working as her first pregnancy was halfway through. They might open their doors to Muggleborns, but they still expect certain behaviour from their sons and their daughter. Marriage, children, proper manners."

"I have never thought about that." 

"You were spared the Pureblood education. Perhaps one mercy Albus had given you. The Wizarding World is still stuck in the eighteenth century in many ways. It's good that Duke Prince was there to explain it to you."

"Yes, it was," echoed Hazel. 

"That does not mean that I am not absolutely appalled at Mister Weasley's behaviour. That he struck you as he was rejected speaks even less of his suitability as a husband to a person like you. Or anyone really. I seriously doubt that he would allow anyone to challenge him on his world view. Or stand up to him. You would feel suffocated if you tried to engage in a relationship with him. And pureblood marriages rarely allow for a divorce."

"No divorce?!" Hazel was stunned. 

"Not really. Many contracts prevent it, as it would be an embarrassment to the families involved." 

"That is… barbaric. What if the woman or the man for the matter is being abused?"

"It goes on. Usually. Sometimes they will live separately. But the children belong to the father. Mostly. Not in your case, probably, seeing as you are the head of two houses. It is due to inheritance laws. Of course, that is if the pair is married. If they are not, then the child is usually left to the mother. Not many men in the Wizarding World will acknowledge a bastard."

"The way you describe all this makes me think I should go for a Muggle," muttered Hazel.

"Perhaps. Of course, most Muggleborns or Halfbloods will not care that much," Andromeda soothed. "As they are raised partially or fully with the Muggle sensibilities, they will likely expect their wifes to work."

"I guess." 

"But there is still an issue of your fortune," Andromeda looked at Hazel firmly. "Rita Skeeter may be an old shrew who sticks her nose where she shouldn't and one day will likely get what she deserves, but she is right in regards to Mister Weasley's small means. As the man is supposed to be a provider, a breadwinner, if you will, for the family, according to the Pureblood customs, you shouldn't even consider him. Not to mention you have significantly higher position as Lady Potter-Black. A head of two families with two votes in Wizengamot. Something he can never match."

"I don't really care who has more money or who earns more!" Hazel protested. "Or the bloody Wizengamot. It's not like I have ever been to a session."

"I have no doubt that you do not really care about those things. Of course, I do not exactly support your complete disinterest in politics, as I think your perspective would do the pompous old windbags a pause, nevertheless it is your choice. Should you want to fit in, you would probably have to go for a Malfoy, a Zabini or a Prince. "

"So, I should simply arrange a marriage with Draco, shouldn't I?" 

"Probably not Draco, given his loyalties to the thankfully departed Lord Voldemort. Zacharias Smith or Ernest MacMillan or Baron Jeremiah Bones. Cormac MacLaggen. Duke Prince, although he is a bit older than you." 

"Great, let's arrange a bloody marriage and be done with it. I will quit my uni and become a quiet wife to some well-respected wizard," Hazel growled. 

"I am not suggesting that," said Andromeda smoothly. "I am just trying to explain how the high society operates in the Wizarding World."

"I know, I know. It is just frustrating." 

"Well, now you understand why I quit. Back when my parents decided that I should marry Lucius Malfoy."

"Yeah, I get it. I don't really like Ron that way anyways. He used to be my best mate, you know? The guy I could rely on to have my back," Hazel explained. "But I was never interested in him that way. He used to be like my brother. Now, I don't even know." 

"It is not unusual for school friendships to lessen once you leave Hogwarts. Or to end. If I was asked, I would say to cut him off." 

"Yes, I was thinking that. Even before last night. Now, I am sure, I won't be impolite to him, but I will avoid spending time with him. I was never interested in drinking myself to unconsciousness on a Friday night." 

"Very good. You are an adult now and should represent Potter and Black families. Even though I won't tell you who to marry or to attend Wizengamot. I believe you should be with whomever you want and the right to a quiet life, should you so choose," Andromeda said firmly. "I want you, Hazel, to be happy. You are a Black woman. We do not bow to anyone," she finished with determination.

Hazel chuckled. 

"Just be yourself, child."

"I will do my best," Hazel promised. "What did you think of the party yesterday? Apart from the Ron situation." 

Andromeda pursed her lips. 

"It was a well-performed play to soothe the worries of the masses. You looked radiant." 

"Only thanks to the fact you dragged me to the tailor," countered Hazel. 

"Yes, and I am going to do so again this week, as you require another gown for the Saint Mungo's Charity Event in two weeks. Green one this time, mhm?" 

"Why not? I only insisted on red and black for the Battle's Anniversary, because I didn't want to cause a scandal. Can you imagine what would people say if I attended in Slytherin colors?" 

"Probably a scandal bigger than a row you had with Mister Weasley," Andromeda allowed. "Thankfully, the Charity Event is less connected in people's minds to the war and colors do not matter as much. And you will look stunning in green with your coloring."

"If you say so. I much rather would put on jeans and go hiking." 

"There is a time and a place for both," said Andromeda chastising her. "Unfortunately, you cannot completely avoid the high society. I made us an appointment on Wednesday, I know you are not working and you don't have classes at the university after the morning one." 

"I thought you didn't approve of pureblood traditions. And yet…" 

"I do not approve of pureblood attitude to marriages. I most certainly think you should present well during important events. There is a value in cultivating these relationships." 

"Fair enough." 

"Don't worry. I will be there with you." 

"Isn't it a bit of a waste? To buy a new dress every time I had to go for a formal event?" 

"Undoubtedly. That is what rich people do. Waste money." 

"Nana," a voice from the door interrupted whatever Hazel was going to say. 

Hazel turned around and saw Teddy standing in the door. The little boy had light brown hair and blue eyes. He looked a lot like a mini version of Remus Lupin. He was wearing blue pajamas and had a teddy bear in his left hand, his hair looked tussled, as if he had just woken up. 

"Edward, hello," Hazel smiled. 

Teddy looked at her and immediately smiled. His hair changed into black and his eyes became green. 

"Hazel!!!" he rushed the girl. Hazel grabbed him into her arms and lifted him into a hug. The little arms encircled her neck. 

He was such a sweet boy. 

"Am hungry, Nana." The boy said after Hazel sat him down on her knees. 

"Well, then, we should make some lunch, shouldn't we?" asked Hazel. 

"You don't have to. We do have a house elf," said Andromeda. 

"I know, but I do like to make food. It will be a pleasure." 

Cooking and preparing food with a 2 year old was a much different experience than Hazel's normal forays into the kitchen. In addition to preparing food, she also had to make sure that Teddy did not harm himself. Still it was a lot of fun. Hazel put on the radio and sang with glee while cutting the meat, fruits and veggies.Teddy mostly laughed and stole some of the food she allowed him to eat.

“You are good with him,” observed Andromeda from the door.

“I like kids,” Hazel admitted. “And he is adorable.”

“I am glad. Edward is what remains of Nymphadora. And Remus. She would have liked you taking an interest in him. That’s why they made you the godmother.”

Hazel dropped the meat and veggies into the frying pan and offered Teddy a small piece of apple, which he took and promptly dropped into his mouth.

“Out of all of them, the Marauders, it’s just me and Teddy left. Sirius never had any kids, my dad and Remus never had a chance to have any more than one each. I am glad to be here for him.”

“Well, I am glad, not just for him, and my daughter, but also for me. I had managed one kid with Ted’s help, but I am getting older. And the war had taken a lot out of me. And it had also taken Ted from me. I am glad to have you to help out with him.”

“You are only what, fifty? Come on, Aunt Andromeda, you are not that old.”

“And yet, I am tired. The war with Lord Voldemort had destroyed my entire generation. Those who aren’t in the ground are plagued with the Dark Magic exposures. With the shaking hands from repeated exposure to the Cruciatus curse. I myself had been hit with dark magic multiple times in my younger years and again when Voldemort returned. The Death Eaters weren’t really discriminating in their curses. I had married a Muggleborn and against my family wishes. Not to mention worked as a healer. Lord Voldemort might not have had directly attacked Saint Mungo, but he did target the _Blood Traitors_.”

“I have read the studies. The exposure to the Dark Magic might have lowered the life expectancy of your generation by decades on average, even discounting those who died during the war,” Hazel admitted.

“Aye, and Severus’ work is too little too late for us. It should work just fine on you, the young ones, but when have you seen a wizard working out? The discrimation against him after the first war might have doomed us to an early grave.”

“The discrimination?” asked Hazel surprised, while putting the finishing touches on the lunches.

“Nobody would publish his work back then. Some hated him because he was a traitor, others because he was a Death Eater. Some of that research is years, if not decades old. But only now, when he is a big hero, people agreed to publish his papers and books. Now, when it is much too late for me and many others.”

“I work out.”

“I know. And it’s good for you. More than just as post-Cruciatus nerve and muscle damage recovery. Just a general health recommendation. Not that many wizards would ever admit needing that. Now, they sort of do it anyway. At least those who were involved in the war.”

“Well, magic makes people a bit lazy, doesn’t it?”

“A bit,” Andromeda smiled.

“Here you go,” Hazel put a full plate in front of the other witch.

“Thank you.”

“It’s just some chicken with rice and veggies. Nothing fancy.”

“Still. Although, I cannot imagine Kreacher being a good cook.”

“He is not, but I did buy a second house elf through Gringotts. Tippy. She is nice and Kreacher likes her.”

“I cannot believe you managed to reform him,” Andromeda said as Hazel sat down and put Teddy in his chair. 

“He only needed a bit of kindness and reminder of the greatness of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. The only person to ever have been kind to him was Regulus. We actually get along fine these days and he is happy to have some help.”

“I am sure,” Andromeda said watching Hazel helping Teddy eat his meal. “Have any plans to have kids?”

Hazel almost choked on her food.

“What?” Andromeda laughed. “You may be young, but the Wizarding World does typically marry young. You should know very well about the witches’ problems with conception and carrying children to term.”

“I do. I wanted a family since I was old enough to understand what it was. And I do want to have children, but I would have to first even be in a relationship with someone, and that is currently highly unlikely to happen.”

“I am guessing the prospects care more about your fame than about you.”

“Something like that,” Hazel admitted. “Most people just want the Girl Who Lived, the Girl Who Conquered. Not me.”

“Well, boys your age tend to be idiots, admittedly.”

“I guess,” muttered Hazel, taking the empty plates from Teddy and Andromeda. “I am not really interested in the ones that are showing interest in me anyway. I just want to finish the University and get my healer’s licence.”

“Well, I am sure you will find someone. Come on, let’s move on to the living room.”

Andromeda sat down on the couch in the living room and poured tea, while Hazel sat next to Teddy on the floor and spread out a box of blocks next to them.

“What brought this on?” Hazel inquired, as she started to construct a tower to Teddy’s delight.

“You are so good with Edward. And you spend most of your time studying, working or in here, playing with a two-year-old. That’s not a choice many witches your age would make. Especially rich, famous ones.”

“I never wanted to be famous,” muttered Hazel.

“No. But many would rip off the benefits. Like your friend, Ronald.”

“Yeah, well, I am not Ronald.”

“Some of the others have done it too. Ginevra and your other year mates.”

“I am ripping off the benefits. I am alive and doing what I like - helping people.”

“I did not say that your choices are wrong. Or imply that you are doing something wrong. I am just hoping you are going to start living some time. The war is over and although I know how though it is to move on, I am hoping that you will. How’s Jeremy working out for you?”

“Healer Hill?” Andromeda nodded. “He is good. We have been working through things.”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder is no joke,” Andromeda said seriously.

“I know and I have been better thanks to Jeremy. I have been better about being in public without having a panic attack and I haven’t assaulted anyone in the last two years. I still have flashbacks, but thankfully I usually can limit the damage.”

“That’s good. Very good. You have been better in these last few months. I worried that the Ronald’s debacle would set you back, but it seems it hasn’t.”

“No, it hasn’t. We have been drifting apart for months. Since the last battle really. As he got into the Auror’s training and I studied with Hermione for the NEWTS, we stopped talking as much, stopped hanging out. He seemed distant, more interested in partying.”

“Hmmm...”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Andromeda chuckled. “It is just proving my point that he isn’t right for you.”

Hazel didn’t know how to respond, but thankfully Teddy saved her from continuing the conversation by hitting the tower they have built and scattering the blocks all over the floor, laughing in delight.

***

Hazel managed to escape Andromeda’s place without making her overly suspicious about her elevated mood despite Ronald’s rejected proposal. It took a lot out of her, and she only managed to do so due to the Occlumency techniques. 

_The best way not to give oneself away is to store the memories out of your mind and to not think about them_ , then Professor Snape had instructed her. 

It hadn’t worked on Voldemort, nor did she get it at the time, but it usually did work on Hazel’s own problems these days. She typically managed to put an event sort of out of focus. Enough so that she would not give clues to someone as accustomed to riding people as Andromeda. 

That, unfortunately did not mean she had managed to put Severus Prince out of her mind. No, she definitely did not manage that. Thankfully, the rest of the week was extremely busy. With the final stretch before the spring exam session in early July, their professors have been assigning them a lot of work and Hazel had been pretty much stuck in her books.

The university’s campus was abuzz with busy students and professors rushing towards classes with stacks of books. On Wednesday morning Hazel had a class in Advanced Potions. That class was surprisingly one of the easiest ones for her. Apparently, Severus Snape had crammed enough knowledge into her head to make an easy pass out of a class universally feared by everyone who had not attended Hogwarts.

It was a good thing too, as Hazel was tired after the ball on Monday and playing with Edward on Tuesday. Not too mention her thoughts kept drifting towards her previous potion’s teacher. It was an excruciating slow three hours.

After the class she immediately apparated to Merlin’s Alley to her tailor’s appointment.

“Hazel, good morning,” Andromeda greeted her as she entered one of the exclusive shops catering only to the high and mighty of the Wizarding Great Britain. 

Hazel still felt like in interloper in the store. Like she didn’t belong among the elites. On the other hand, Andromeda seemed right at home.

“Fake it until you make it, child,” the Black woman told her quietly as the shop owner, Elsa Marshall, greeted her.

“Lady Potter-Black! Welcome, welcome. Madam Tonks was just telling me about your party in two weeks. We should find you something special,” the woman prattled on. “Please, have some wine,” an assistant handed Hazel a glass of red wine. “Please, please, come on in. Andy, take a seat. I shall start pulling out some of our assortment.”

Hazel was basically ordered to go into one of the rooms and strip to her underwear. Andromeda sat down on a chair in the corner with a glass of wine.

“Here you go,” Elsa and her assistant, Marrisa, walked into the room with a beautiful, gold dress. “You will look like a princess.”

Elsa and her assistant dressed her up into the gown. She did look like a princess, but she was also way too flowery for her taste.

“It’s very pretty, but I think it’s too...”

“Princess like?” Andromeda suggested.

“Yeah. I still don’t get why I cannot go in my red-black one.”

Elsa clipped her tongue.

“That just wouldn’t do, my Lady.”

“I am sure,” Hazel let out a sigh, as they stripped her off and brought out another dress, this time blue and silvery. Unfortunately, it also wasn’t quite right. After a couple more that weren’t quite right, Andromeda brought up her idea from the day before.

“What about green? I think Hazel would look stunning in green.”

“Green?” Elsa looked very unsure about that. “Are you sure you would like to try green?”

“Why not?” asked Hazel.

“It’s a Slytherin color,” Elsa almost whispered, embarrassed.

Hazel frowned at that.

“I am not at school anymore. It’s not like I am a traitor to Gryffindor because I have green eyes and own a green shirt. And it’s not like Slytherin’s are all bad. Severus Prince, Kingsley and Andromeda over there are Slytherin. Not to mention Aberthfort Dumbledore, Albus Dumbledore’s brother.”

“I am not saying that Slytherin is all bad,” Elsa said embarrassed suddenly. “It’s just that they have a bad rep.”

Hazel shrugged. It was a weird conversation, but perhaps Elsa simply had someone in her family die during the war. Most people did. And hatred was rarely rational. Hazel focused on the emerald green dress the shop assistant brought in. It was beautiful. 

“Oh, definitely yes,” said Andromeda, sitting up.

Hazel slid into a dress with the assistant help. It had low cleavage, but clothed back, which was as Hazel requested it.

The dress was smooth and showed off her curves nicely. It also brought out her eyes.

“Perfect,” said Andromeda. “Now, just the shoes.”

The assistant took that as her cue. She brought out a few pairs of high heels from the best wizarding brands.

Hazel selected a black ones, and Andromeda heartily approved her choice. They left the store with the shoes and a promise of delivery of the dress on Saturday.

“Great!” Andromeda smiled, as they stood on the alley. “That was short! Now, I have got to run, Molly took Teddy, but I don’t want her to overwork herself. After all she did raise seven kids already. I will see you on Saturday,” the older witch kissed Hazel on the cheek, said her goodbyes and apparated. 

Hazel didn’t have anywhere to be. She was ahead on her homework and her studying. And she needed something to do. She slowly started walking through the alley, looking at the stores. Merlin Alley was a Wizarding Street, adjacent to the Diagon, but it had a very different sort of clientele and offerings. It had been said that even for a cup of water there, you have to pay a hundred galleons. 

It was certainly true in Hazel’s opinion. Jewelry stores, upscale fashion and tailors, handbags for thousand galleons apiece. Hazel walked past one, never intending to walk in, but the sight of small beautiful diamond and emerald earrings stopped her in her tracks. They were subtle, but just the color of her new dress.

Hazel never had her ears pierced. All of her year mates had. At least from what she could recall, but until Andromeda and Narcissa, Hazel hadn’t really had a female role model or even an influence on her life apart from Molly Weasley. But the Weasley Matriarch wasn’t someone who was enjoying the numerous formal occasion. She appeared very well dressed at the Anniversary Balls, but that was it.

Thankfully, with all of the children out of her house and Arthur’s ascension through the ministry ranks, she was able to afford finer clothing. It didn’t mean she enjoyed it or revealed in it like Narcissa Malfoy seemed to.

Hazel stood in front of the store. She could afford it. She probably could afford the entire shop without making so much as a dent in her numerous vaults. There was really no reason not to buy something she liked. It wasn’t as if Hazel was spending her fortune very often. She bought formal dresses and an entire new wardrobe after the war, but that was about it. She lived humbly, with regular conveniences, but little indulgence. 

The thing was, now, she could be indulgent. And she could purchase herself a damn pair of earrings if she so desired. 

_I wonder what Severus would have thought,_ a stray thought entered her consciousness, but she shook her head. Severus Prince was a one-time deal. Hazel liked him, but she was under no illusions of grand love on either of their parts. It was comfort, trust, common history, companionship between them more than anything else. 

Decisively, she entered the store.

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” a store clerk, a woman of about twenty five greeted her.

“Good afternoon. I would like to see those diamond-emerald earrings on the window’s display.”

“Of course, ma’am. Right away,” the girl brought out the tray with the earrings. “They are very beautiful. I am sure they would suit you well.”

Hazel picked out one, brought her to her ear and looked into a mirror on the glass display.

It looked as she imagined.

“We also have a necklace for this set,” the woman brought out a beautiful, delicate necklace.

Hazel brought out her checkbook. 

“I will also need to pierce my ears,” she muttered, more to herself than to the woman. She was certain Hermione could do this for her. 

“I can do it for you!” exclaimed enthusiastically the woman, obviously seeing an opportunity for a large sale.

Hazel reluctantly agreed. She walked out of the store nearly thirty minutes later and seven thousand galleons poorer. She had simple earrings in her newly-pierced ears, not willing to carry a fortune for an every day activities. 

Even almost two years after Hazel had gained her fortunes in the wake of Voldemort’s defeat, she still sometimes couldn't get over the fact that she was extraordinarily rich. It was indecent. Brought up poor, living in a middle class home, watching her relatives stuff themselves on everything life had to offer, while having nothing. And now, she could just buy everything she wanted. Literally. She could probably buy herself an island or a castle or something. Not that she would. She gave some money to the various charities like Narcissa Malfoy’s charity. Of course, she knew that Narcissa likely wanted to win back over the public, but at least Hazel knew she would try hard to achieve it and not swindle the money. Too much risk for her to do so after the war.

She had a perfect dress and a perfect set of jewelry to fit the dress. It was time to go home.

***

By Friday, Hazel had totally managed to put Duke Severus Prince out of her mind. There was no day-dreaming or wondering about their one-night stand anymore. The man was old enough to be her father and had hated her her entire life. There was little point pondering a repeat experience or any sort of relationship with the man. She had gotten her Halfblood Prince to kiss her and even have sex with her. Her first time. 

He certainly took care of her. There was a lot to be said about Severus Prince, but apparently he was a gentleman. From what she has been told by her female roommates at Hogwarts having such a good experience for one’s first time was not a given, but unusual. Nevertheless, she managed to put Severus Prince out of her mind.

By the time she bumped into Hermione Granger in the university’s cafeteria, all she was thinking of were her classes and Saturday's events - early morning trip to Azkaban and afternoon’s barbecue for the veterans of the Battle of Hogwarts at Minerva McGonagall's house.

“Hazel, so good I have caught you!” exclaimed Hermione. “Are you grabbing lunch?”

“Yes, Mione. That is typically the reason one would come to the cafeteria at lunch hour.”

“Very funny,” Hermione dragged her over to the counter and ordered for them both. “I was hoping to see you before Saturday’s meeting! The newspapers have been going on and on about you and Ron on Tuesday. Rita Skeeter simply cannot shut up. I wish I had quashed that little bug when I had a chance,” Hermione said referencing the illegal animagus transformation Rita was capable of. “I cannot simply understand what Ron had been thinking. You have never even been together!”

 _Ah, the failed proposal,_ Hazel thought. She did in fact forget all about it. The advantage of not reading wizarding news. And having Severus Prince a tiny little bit on her mind. And work. And study. 

“The boys!” Hermione continued. “They are so damn clueless, you know, Hazel!”

“I sort of forgot about it,” she admitted, interrupting Hermione’s rant. 

“You forgot about it?!” Hermione repeated partly scandalized and partly incredulous.

“Yeah, I had a lot of other stuff on my mind. You know - work and study. You know that I don’t really read the news. I am sure Rita is trying to milk it for all it’s worth, but I hardly care. Ron changed. I don’t know why. Snape says it’s his upbringing.”

“Snape? You mean Prince?”

“Yeah, Snape, Prince, Professor Bastard, the brilliant hero of war, potions and healing genius. That Snape,” Hazel confirmed. “I met him after I ran from the room. He explained that it was Ron’s upbringing. That Purebloods expect women to marry and bear children and man to work or manage estates. You know - eighteenth century like.”

“You cannot be serious! I have never read anything like that!”

“You probably wouldn’t. It’s likely tradition. Commonly understood by everyone. Ron was surprised that I didn’t. He kept repeating that this is how things are. Andromeda said the same thing too when I saw her the day after the ball. She was actually surprised I knew. Until I explained Prince told me.”

“That’s barbaric! We don’t live in the middle ages.”

“Yeah, apparently it’s mostly the old families - Purebloods and Halfbloods - that still practice it. You know - arranged marriages. The whole nine yards.”

“Awful. You are not planning anything like that, are you?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“Of course not! I want to be a healer. Besides who would I marry? Some douche bag who just wants me for my money and fame?”

“Yeah, boys are a disappointment, aren’t they?”

“I thought you had some new guy. What was his name again?”

“Timothy Fawley, but now I am wondering if he expects me to drop everything to bear children for him.”

“Well, you should probably ask.”

“I will. I have no interest in staying at home and being a housewife.”

“I don’t think they expect housewives, rather tea parties with other society women and such. House elves are for housewife-ing.”

Hermione snorted.

“Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, you should talk to the Timothy guy, clear up any possible misunderstandings.”

“Yeah, I will,” Hermione looked up at the clock on the wall. “How are your studies going?”

“Pretty good. I am having a pretty easy time at Advance Healing Potions. The rest is a memory grind. I must say I was quite a bit better at looking at dead bodies than most of my peers, but generally the classes until next term don’t really include a lot of healing. Mostly basic - potions, anatomy, wizarding microbiology, magical theory relating to wizards anatomy. I am doing quite well in all of them. Being a medi-witch at Saint Mungo helps a lot too. How about yours?”

“Pretty good. I am taking a lot of extra classes from Economic and Political Studies, as well as Wizarding History.”

“Of course you are,” Hazel smiled.

“Oh, come on. Your schedule is just as bad as mine is. I know it very well. When you are not studying or working, you are helping out Andromeda Tonks by spending time with Teddy. You turned quite a bit into me.”

Hazel looked away.

“Can’t sleep without potions unless I am exhausted.”

“Nightmares,” Hermione stated knowingly. “I have them too. Although, probably not as bad as you do.”

“Yeah. War may have ended, but it’s still here,” Hazel tapped her temple.

Hermione sighed. 

“I would rather not talk about that here. You should come around to my apartment. We can drink wine, watch stupid rom-coms and reminisence about the past, since we are so old and experienced,” she teased Hazel lightly.

“After the exams. I have about a ton of stupid events to attend. You do too from what I remember.”

“Yes, Saturday’s the Order’s meeting and next weekend the Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball, isn’t it?”

“Precisely. I had to buy another damned dress for the charity ball.”

“I am sure you were delighted,” Hermione chuckled.

“Oh, come on, I am doing quite ok with the whole dressing up thing. I even learnt how to walk on high heels.”

“I am impressed,” Hermione said mockingly.

“Au! That’s brutal, Mione! It literally hurt my heart!” Hazel clutched at her chest.

“I am sure,” Hermione laughed. “I am quite looking forward to Saturday, really. All our friends from school.”

“You meet half of them at the uni every day!” Hazel protested.

“Well, Padma and Hannah. Justin and Ernie. But from Gryffindor it’s just you, me and Neville. I haven’t seen Seamus, Dean, Lavender or Parvati since last year’s meeting.”

“Well, I guess we should both go out more.”

“I guess,” Hermione looked up. “Oh, no. I have a class in ten minutes on the other side of the campus. Gotta run,” she stood and kissed Hazel on a cheek. “I will see you Saturday!”

And then she was gone. Typical Hermione.

***

Saturday at 5 am Hazel was ready at Saint Mungos. It was one of the weekends she was volunteering at Azkaban. It was extremely unpleasant, but Hazel believed in helping the prisoners, even if some of them had repeatedly tried to kill her.

“Hazel, good morning!” she turned at the sound of the voice of one of the Healers - Joey Turner. He was a womanizer, but Hazel liked him. Charming, polite, always trying to make everybody feel a bit better. And he respected it when she told him that she wouldn’t sleep with him. Since then they made pretty good colleagues. “I am glad it’s you!”

“Joey. I’d say I was glad it’s you too, but you are way too cheerful in the morning.”

“Ah, Hazel, you break my poor heart,” she laughed, as he kissed her on the cheek. “Besides, we should try to be cheerful. We are on the way to Azkaban, my dear Hazel. It’s going to be all gloom and death and suffering from now on until four o’clock.”

“That only means that we should try to improve Azkaban for the prisoners. We are not in the fourteenth century.”

“No, if we were in the fourteenth century they would have been put to death. Probably terribly gruesome and bloody.”

“Point taken.”

“At least we can heal them these days. And we don’t have dementors anymore.”

“Yeah, the Ministry still doesn’t really know what happened to them, do they?”

“No. Or at least they aren’t telling. Which would be stupid if they knew. Would definitely reassure the public. Not that Shacklebolt doesn’t have a lot of support, but with the werewolf attacks and still unapprehended Death Eaters they probably would release something like that for the good press.”

“Very likely. Since the early days after the battle, the DMLE didn’t have many big successes. The Ministry reform is looking good, but without results...”

“Which would be unlucky. Kingsley Shacklebolt is way more competent than any other minister I personally remember. I mean Bagnold was supposedly good, but the trials after the war... It seemed successful at the time, but now we find out how many they completely screwed up. I mean how many Death Eaters have managed to avoid prison in 1981, right? Malfoy, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, MacNair, just to name a few. They had whole lot influence on the ministry in the later years, and all of them have been murderous bastards.”

“You have some firm opinions on that.”

“I lost a lot of friends to the war,” Joey was all serious now.

“We all did.”

“Healer Turner and Medi-witch Potter-Black,” a young auror walked up to them interrupting any further conversation. He was carrying a parchment, and as he read her name from it, he immediately looked up towards her forehead. “Lady Potter-Black, it’s a pleasure,” he bowed deeply. “I wish to thank you for all you have done for all of us.”

“Thank you. You are new, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am!” he straightened up as if at attention. “Junior Auror Thomas MacMillan.”

“Any relation to Ernie MacMillan?”

“He is my second cousin I think. Or maybe second cousin once removed, ma’am! The family trees get complicated any farther than first cousins.”

“Don’t I know it?” muttered Hazel, just as a shout _MacMillan! Move your ass!_ Was heard from outside.

“We are ready, Sir!”

“Let’s go,” muttered Joey to Hazel. “Joys of being an international hero, ah?” he continued talking as they followed the Junior Auror.

“Unfortunately,” Hazel answered mournfully.

“Healer, Lady Potter-Black,” the Senior Auror was Gowain Robards, one Hazel was quite familiar with, “our Portkey to Azkaban Prison is in 57 seconds, please gather around me and touch this stick. I should not have to remind you that there are many dangerous prisoners on the island and we should all be on our guard - two aurors at all times with Healer Turner and Lady Potter-Black. Teams as decided before.”

“10 seconds, Sir!”

“Ok, everybody get ready.”

“The holiday resort at the North Sea awaits. Full of degenerate murderers, windy halls and ever-dark night,” Joey said brightly.

The portkey swept them away.

When Hazel’s vision cleared she was kneeling on the cold stone at the entrance to Azkaban Prison. It was cold this far out at sea, even in the middle of May. The entire island was grim dark color, but the walls of the prison were pitch black, rising towards the sky. The waves kept crashing against the rocks. 

Hazel shivered as she took in the sight. She knew it wasn’t from the cold. Now matter how many times she came to the prison, it still filled her with dread. 

Azkaban, beyond aurors’ quarters wasn’t properly maintained. There was no way off the island, so over the years construction deteriorated. There was also no glass in the windows, which were really small holes in the walls. This caused the wind to blow almost freely through the prison. The food was also not very nutritious. Therefore the prisoners often suffered from months long colds and various flus. It was better than during the dementors’ era, but not by much.

“Welcome to purgatory,” muttered Joey to her.

“Purgatory?”

“Well, I hope hell is actually worse. Let’s get to it so we can leave this damned island as soon as possible.”

 _“Number 47 said to number 3. You’re the cutest jailbird I ever did see*,_ _”_ Hazel intoned, as they walked towards the gate.

Joey looked at her incredulously.

“You are the weirdest superhero I have ever met,” he said, but Hazel ignored him.

Their party met Senior Auror in charge of garrisoning Azkaban as they walked through the gate. Hazel didn’t paid the aurors any mind. There were now at least twenty stationed at all times on the island. It must have been draining the Ministry’s resources.

Hazel followed Joey into a side office, where the official reports of prisoners’ health were held.

“Junior Auror Connely,” Joey greeted the man inside.

“Ah, healers. You here again Healer Turner?” the young man in the office answered.

“Indeed. Apparently, I drew the short straw again.”

“It’s not that bad, at least you are going home in a couple of hours. I still have two more months on this rock.”

“Who’s up for the checkup this week?”

“We’ve got seven aurors for a regular checkup. Plus four accidents among the prisoners. Fife are also up for whatever regular checkup you want to do on them,” he finished dismissively. 

“They are still people,” said Hazel.

The auror shrugged. 

“They are still better off than when dementors were still here. If the Minister didn’t insist on them receiving medical care, I doubt we would have bothered. Not for Death Eaters for sure.”

“Some of them are actually going to be out in a couple of years,” observed Hazel.

“Yeah, Malfoy. On your testimony, if I am right, Lady Potter. I guess you had your reasons.”

“On of them was not to destroy a fifth of the Wizarding World or so, but I am guessing that is quite irrelevant for you. I will take the aurors, that right Joey?”

“Yes, please Hazel. I will check out those _four accidents_ and then we can check the nine prisoners. I will call you if I need any help.”

“Is the set up same as the last time?” Hazel asked the auror.

“Yeah. Up one floor. All the aurors should be waiting there.”

The work in Azkaban was mostly routine. The crucial part were the _accidents_ and serious sickness, but usually the healers would take them and they would not need too much help. The aurors didn’t report anything happening to the prisoners unless it was at least mildly serious, but most of it was broken limbs or ribs, of course various diseases due to lowered immunities with cold, wind, rain and malnutrition plaguing the inmates and dysentery. Sanitary conditions were even worse than food. Of course, the healers and medi-witches who volunteered for Azkaban managed to negotiate a one checkup for prisoners every six months. This was probably not even nearly enough considering the state of Azkaban, but it was better than nothing.

On the other hand, the aurors had a very strict regime of a checkup at least once a month while stationed on the island. That meant a total of six checkups plus one prior to the posting. Kingsley insisted on it. 

The thing was the _accidents_. A lot of healers and medi-witches filled reports of probable abuse of prisoners. Hazel has done so herself. A bit too many broken bones and clumsy prisoners falling down the stairs. The response from the DMLE was, well, non-existent. Platitudes and assurances.

Unfortunately, most of the prisoners affected were Death Eaters, and few people would support the fight for better conditions for them. Not so close after the war, when the wizarding economy was still struggling and families were still grieving. 

Saint Mungo, which was one of the most progressive employers in the Wizarding World, had to contend with two monthly visits to Azkaban. Of course, most healers and medi-wizards didn’t particularly want to come to Azkaban, and if Andromeda was right, Hazel shamed them into it.

Checkups on aurors went fast. They were healthy young men and women. They lived in comfortable, warm quarters. The main issue was the mental health. Spending six months in the company of your work colleagues in the middle of the North Sea wasn’t healthy for anyone.

Joey returned soon after that.

“Accidents my ass,” he muttered to her. “The aurors aren’t very gentle with them. Some broken ribs, slightly too deep cuts. And our prison guards?”

“No indication of any illness apart from one minor cold. They want to leave her as soon as possible, but testing did not show any indicators of imbalanced magic and their answers were similar to the baselines,” psychiatric issues were quite a bit different in the Wizarding World, as many of them heavily influenced magic and often caused accidental magical outbursts, either internal or external. Monitoring the balance of magic was therefore crucial step in preventing the diseases. Hazel herself had a couple of outbursts during first months after the war, usually brought on by stress, panic attacks or being mobbed on the streets. It was also why Andromeda took her to see Jeremy Hill the first time.

“Well, that’s all we can do in fifteen minutes. Hill keeps pushing for full mental evaluations, but I seriously doubt the Ministry will front the cash for at least part time staff. Until a disaster strikes, of course.”

“Probably not. I could talk to Kingsley, but with the situation as it is, I doubt they have spare resources.”

“Useless. Who do we have today?”

“Malfoy, Lestrange Rudolphus, Rookwood, Rowle, Yaxley.”

“Lovely, my favorite lunch - You Know Who’s Most Loyal Pack of Crazies. Let’s end with Malfoy, at least he is somewhat reasonable.”

Several minutes later the aurors dragged in Augustus Rookwood. He looked about as good as Sirius when he first escaped Azkaban. His arms and legs were in chains. He could barely move at all by himself. The aurors dragged him over the chair and sat him up.

Hazel remembered the pictures of Augustus Rookwood from the first war. He was a fierce warrior, almost taking down Alastor Moody. After twelve plus two years in prison, he didn’t have any more teeth, his entire face was black and blue from beatings. The spark in his eyes was gone. Hazel wasn’t sure if the dementors or aurors killed the spark or if it died with the death of Voldemort.

“So, what happened to him?” asked Joey. “Fell down the stairs? Run into the door?”

The aurors who brought him in simply shrugged. Joey and Hazel healed the worst of the injuries, but there seemed to be little point to their work sometimes. 

Nevertheless, the Death Eaters following Rookwood all looked similar. Defeated, broken, beaten, literally and figuratively. Some screamed at them, fought against the aurors, some quietly submitted themselves to the harsh treatment. 

The only one who looked somewhat poised was Lucius Malfoy. He had a chronic heart condition that required specific potions and frequent checkups. He also received only five years and the aurors seemed to be somewhat less harsh with him. It could also be a fear of investigation, as there was a very high probability of death due to heart failure in people with his disease if they were severely beaten. It was somewhat surprising that he survived being a Death Eater at all.

“Lady Potter-Black. Healer,” Malfoy nodded to both of them as the aurors lead him in. Although, he was also in chains, he was not dragged, but walked towards the chair.

“Malfoy, I am glad you are still alive,” Hazel said to him.

“Me too, me too, Lady Potter. What’s the date?” he always asked that question. Every time Hazel visited. The prisoners access to the outside world was severely limited, so days probably meshed together in his mind.

“May 6th, 2000.”

“Two years.”

“Aye. Three more and you will be free.”

“That is if I last that long. When the dementors were here, the life expectancy for Azkaban inmates wasn’t exactly high. It’s gotten a bit better, but not that much better.”

“No, not really,” muttered Hazel while taking his temperature, blood pressure and weight measurements with her wand. “Temperature slightly elevated, the weight could be better, and the blood pressure is normal.”

“Not too bad, Malfoy,” Joey took over checking the specifics regarding Malfoy’s heart disease. 

“The aurors are too careful. If I died by accident, there would be trouble. A death of a prisoner would have to be investigated and the guilty party would likely have been fired from the Corps,” Malfoy said smirking lightly. 

“You are a smart guy, Malfoy,” Hazel said, irritated at his self-assurance. “Begs the question of how exactly a smart guy like you gets involved with a guy like Lord Voldemort.”

Malfoy flinched.

“Family business,” he answered. “My father was… well, I wouldn’t call them friends, exactly, but they attended Hogwarts together. Him and the Dark Lord. And you don’t refuse your father, if you are a Pureblood heir. Besides, at the time he seemed like an answer to all our prayers. He was a brilliant man, Lady Potter-Black. Back then anyway. And he was saying what we all have been thinking.”

“I am sure he was. I met his sixteen year old self once. Chamber of Secrets incident. I am sure you remember.”

Malfoy smirked.

“Yes, I do. Tom Riddle was extraordinary. It all went wrong at one point or another and he turned into a monster.”

Hazel really wished she could punch him in the nose sometimes. The war and his imprisonment mellowed him down significantly, but he was still a Malfoy.

“Well, 3 more years of paying for your family business, then,” said Joey. “Your heart is doing well. You are a bit under-nourished, but nothing too bad. Do try to stay on aurors’ good side.”

“That’s all I do. Lady Potter-Black, have you maybe seen my wife lately?”

“Yes, indeed. She was at the ball on May 1st. Don’t worry, Malfoy, she is managing your fortune quite fine. Her charity is doing ok. Slowly winning over the public back on the Malfoy’s name side.”

Malfoy laughed at that.

“People forget that Cissy was as much a Slytherin as I was. And she has the advantage of being beautiful.”

“And being smarter than you,” Hazel pointed out. “Knowing when to abandon the sinking ship. Never committing to an ugly tattoo on her arm.”

“Fair enough, Lady Potter. Cissy is smarter than me. Always was. And I have always appreciated it.”

Hazel looked at him skeptically, but said nothing.

“Alright, we are all clear. That’s the last of it. You can go, Mister Malfoy.”

“Thanks, healer. See you next time,” Malfoy said, as the aurors walked him outside.

“Well, we are done,” Hazel said.

“Thank Merlin. I hate this place.”

***

By the time Hazel was back home, it was already almost five o’clock. She was also rather tired. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending the entire rest of the day talking with fellow survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts, but she couldn’t very well skip.

She grabbed a Pepper Up potion from her cabinet and got dressed. She picked a blue dress with black sandals. Heels weren’t a great idea around the Forest of Dean.

At least the area around the cottage was very nice. She could slip out for a bit of time of her own.

By the time she arrived, the party was in full swing. She entered the living room of the cottage, which was at some point during the war converted into a meeting room for the Order.

“Hazel!” a voice greeted her. It was Kingsley. “You are a bit late!” 

The Minister was standing right next to Severus Prince.

“I was just in Azkaban,” answered Hazel. “Healing the injuries on the former Death Eaters. The ones inflicted by your Auror Corps, Kingsley.”

“Sucker punch straight out of the gate. Thanks, Hazel,” Kingsley put both hands on his chest to indicate how much the accusation harm him.

“You volunteer in Azkaban?” Prince frowned.

“Yes, I do,” Hazel answered and turned back to the Minister. “Perhaps, if your aurors weren’t beating the shit of the prisoners, we wouldn’t be needed so often.”

“You are stupid enough to go to a place where there is a whole bunch of people who want nothing more than to kill. How typical of you Potter. ” 

Hazel narrowed her eyes at Severus Prince.

“Not that it is any of your business, _Your Grace_ , but I can take care of myself with fifty aurors at my back against a bunch of malnourished, half-dead man in chains without wands. Unless you believe me incompetent.”

“I would never say that,” there was a flash of something in his eyes.

“Unless you believe your former colleagues do not deserve a basic kindness like medical help.”

“They were Death Eaters, Hazel.”

“So they were. So were you. Doesn’t mean that basic human rights do not apply to them. Doesn’t mean they do not get a second chance.”

“Most of them would enjoy torturing you to death very slowly. Raping you, breaking you. They deserve everything they got,” he countered. “And I know exactly what they did. Since I was there for most of it, as you just pointed out.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. Simply saying that people can change, and just because they would like to torture and rape me, doesn’t mean I should take my moral cues from them, _Your Grace_ ,” she stated with just a bit of scarsm in her voice.

“Perhaps the fact that they are in Azkaban because you killed their master, should have you a bit more concerned, but I guess...” Prince did not get to finish.

“Alright, alright, Hazel, Severus, there is no need to fight,” Kingsley raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I assure you, Severus, we have a very tight security, nothing is going to happen to Hazel.”

“Of course, that would be a tragedy for the Ministry, wouldn’t it? Losing the Girl Who Conquered,” sneered Prince.

“I give up,” Kingsley raised his hands defeated. “All I can say is we are trying our best. Is it enough? No. But we are getting better. I will talk to Jeremy, ask him to keep a tighter leash on the aurors, Hazel. I cannot promise anything. Most of those guys lost their loved ones to those men. They aren’t likely to be accommodating to them. And, Severus, yes, we take Hazel’s security way more seriously than anyone else, but then again she is in more danger than anyone else.”

Severus scoffed.

“Do you disagree with that assessment?”

“No.”

“You two seriously know how to point out all our failings. Perhaps, you would like to join me in fixing our society?”

“I would rather resurrect the Dark Lord myself,” muttered Hazel.

“I would rather you didn’t,” Kingsley answered.

“Hazel,” Minerva McGonagall’s voice interrupted their small argument.

“Headmistress, good to see you. I apologize for being late. I had a shift.”

“In Azkaban,” added Prince.

“Ah. Very generous of you, Hazel. Although, probably not the safest pursuit. But then again, you are you,” McGonagall said, smiling lightly. “I am glad you are here.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Molly made the most wonderful cookies, and I would like to talk to you, if you can take a bit of a break from arguing with Severus.”

Prince sent McGonagall a death glare, but she just smiled at him.

“Of course, Professor.”

“And do call me Minerva, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Elvis Presley, Jailhouse Rock


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is probably going to be a bit of a wait for chapter 5, because I am going to Copenhagen next week and only coming back on Sunday. Unless inspiration strikes me, but currently I am only one third into chapter 5, so probably not.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!  
> Best,  
> L

Arguing with Hazel Potter-Black was an absolutely terrible idea. Severus tended to forget that the damnable Gryffindor was now a grown woman and never really scared of him. And she was… well attractive, for lack of a better word. And unfortunately, he knew that now. Intimately. She looked stunning in the casual blue dress too. And the pierced ears were new.

All of this meant that arguing with her was apparently a very bad idea. 

_Yeah, because she is pretty, young, respects you and of course, is not intimidated by you in any way._

He was uncomfortably grateful that Minerva dragged Potter away. Probably to rope her into making a speech during the reopening of Hogwarts. 

He was also going in circles in his mind. Again. Bad sign.

Severus would have to have a serious talk with himself about Hazel Potter-Black.

“Severus?”

“Yes, Kingsley?”

“Trust me, when I say it, we are very committed to keeping Hazel safe. And not just because it would look bad for the Ministry if something happened to her in Azkaban. I tried getting to her to stop going there, but she wouldn’t listen. Like Minerva said, it is just who she is.”

“If you say so.”

“Trust me, I have no intention of letting Hazel get hurt. The kid is important to me.”

Severus shrugged.

“I don’t care.”

“Of course, you don’t. Because you haven’t spent seven years protecting her.”

Severus shrugged again.

“Look, she is a good kid. Too good sometimes. Trying to fix the world little by little by herself.”

“She is not a kid anymore,” muttered Severus. He absolutely refused to think about Hazel Potter as a child.

“No, she has grown into a brilliant witch, hasn’t she?”

“Mhm,” he was simply not going there. It seemed the universe really hated him. If it wasn’t Marcus bugging him about getting married, or Minerva about going out more, it was Kingsley trying to talk about the wretched woman.

“I thought you two had cleared up your differences.”

“We have.”

It was true too. Potter sat by his bed for a month, pretty much. Hoping he would wake up. She apologized to him, which was really backwards. He had purposefully made her life hell. It was necessary, of course, for his spying gig. However, he made an art of it. He was vastly more brutal than he needed to be. Probably, he should be the one begging for forgiveness for every mean, unnecessary cruelty he inflicted on her, but he was a coward. Apologizing would expose his weakness, so he didn’t.

But they did make up, became a sort of casual acquaintances. 

“Well, do you know anything about this business with Ron Weasley?”

“No, Potter and I are not in the habit of confiding in one another.”

“Right, I will have to catch her later. This whole business...”

“Doesn’t look good for the ministry.”

“That’s not what I was going to say!” protested Kingsley.

“No?” Severus’ eyebrows rose.

“Of course not! I am worried about her. And Mister Weasley. He has just graduated auror training after all. I don't really want him on my team, if he is violent. Especially towards women. You should understand that!”

“I do,” Severus’ eyes flashed dangerously.

“Right, I forgot about your mother.”

Severus had forgotten that Kingsley Shacklebolt was only two years older than him. Slytherin too. One of the youngest Ministers to date.

“For all my hatred for dumb Gryffindors, I am pretty sure I hate Slytherins more. Anyway, he is a pureblood Gryffindor boy. Of course, he has an uncontrollable violent streak.”

“I am pretty sure being a pureblood Gryffindor isn’t actually tied to being violent.”

“James Potter and Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Cormac MacLaggen, the Weasley twins.”

“Neville Longbottom, Bill and Charlie Weasley.”

“One is a curse breaker, the other dragon handler, obviously they have violent streaks. And Longbottom is an exception, rather than a rule. No doubt it is the effect of his tragic life. Regardless, your newest boy-auror beating up his friend is terrible publicity.”

Kingsley laughed.

“Oh, come on, my friend, you know I do actually care about Hazel and her well being.”

“Of course, thanks to her you are the Minister of Magic. Being on her good side is smart. She is possibly the most powerful person in the entire country, and I don’t mean by the sheer magical power only. People love her. More than they did Dumbledore.”

“I am not that ambitious, Severus. I liked being an auror. I became the Minister, because I was the most experienced one here, who wasn’t completely opposed to taking the job. Minerva or Filius would never go for it. And it’s not like you would take it.”

“Never. Not that anyone would want me as a Minister.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You are quite the media darling these days.”

Severus scoffed. 

“I’ve read your books. And my researchers at the Ministry are salivating any time a new article of yours comes out. They call you a genius and the Department of Mysteries have been bothering me for months to convince you to work for them. Not that I would actually try,” he finished quickly at Severus’ dark look. “But they do.”

Severus scoffed again.

“Take the compliment, Severus. Your work is going to help save thousands of people across the world.”

“I mostly did it to save myself. And I had a lot of subjects over the years to experiment on. No ethical boundaries to concern myself with. Most Death Eaters protected me from the Dark Lord and assured him multiple times that I couldn’t be a traitor. They risked being wrong, because I kept them well. Or at least well enough.”

“Now, that is something for the history books,” chuckled Kingsely.

“You are not even half as funny as you like to believe yourself to be.”

“Well, I guess you cannot really go to Saint Mungo with the symptoms of prolonged Dark Art exposure, if you aren’t an auror at least, right?”

“Not really. Especially those who weren’t on trial in 1981 and managed to wriggle out like Lucius.”

“Yes, Lucius. You visited him recently.”

“He is my friend.”

“Still?”

“Of course. Lucius understands that I have helped keep his wife and son from prison and him from getting a very long sentence, he no doubt deserved. Not to mention, that with his heart problems, I am probably the only reason he managed to survive the last war without a heart failure.”

“He did defect. And it wasn’t like he had any choice by the end of it.”

“True enough,” Severus allowed.

“And he cooperated. Turned himself in, gave us everything he knew about the organization. And he knew a lot.”

“Lucius was one of the most intelligent Death Eaters out there. He was a true believer at the beginning, but that did not mean that he didn’t gather as much information as possible. We are Slytherins. We like to plan for any possible outcome.”

“Well, regardless of his reasons, he was helpful to us. And we couldn’t really prove he killed anyone, since you claimed a memory loss, didn’t you?”

“You will find that my doctors’ have all confirmed that my trauma...”

“Don’t bullshit me, Severus. You provided testimony on at least five other Death Eaters.”

“Did I? I tend to forget in my old age.”

“I don’t disparage your choice. I was a Slytherin myself. Really, it was only a stroke of luck I didn’t end up where he is now. Lord Voldemort had managed to split the entire Wizarding Britain. It will take a long time to heal the wounds on our society.”

Another topic Severus was not really in favor of.

“It is a shame that you pretty much become a hermit after the war. We could use another Slytherin among us, especially one of your stature. To help us heal those wounds.”

“I’ve done enough,” Severus growled.

“Relax, my friend, I was just making conversation,” Kingsley raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I am not going to force you into anything, apart from maybe a couple of parties.”

A death glare Severus sent his way would sent a lesser man running and screaming.

“I got the message,” Kingsley slapped him on the back and Severus wanted to curse him. Unfortunately, cursing the Minister would probably not go over well. Even if he was apparently a _media darling_. “Relax, my friend. Have some fun. Enjoy the perks of being a hero. I am going, I am going, before you curse my balls off. I still hope to have children one day. Besides, it wouldn’t do for the Minister to get into an argument with a fellow war hero. Imagine the media fallout,” Kingsley winked at him and walked away.

_Screw you, Kingsley._

***

“Thank you all for coming,” Minerva was speaking to the crowd gathered around the table in the yard behind the cottage. “I know most of you were there on Monday for the party, but today we are here to commemorate the people who fought with us on that fateful day and who died to free the Wizarding World from the oppression of Lord… Vol...demort,” she stumbled over the name and many in the crowd flinched. “Those who died during the First War, as well as the Second. Please raise the glass with me for the fallen,” Minerva raised her glass as she spoke.

“To the fallen!” repeated the crowd after her.

Severus raised his own glass. He decided against drinking alcohol, since the last time he got drunk lead him to waking up in Hazel Potter’s bedroom. Besides he had to be sharp, since Minerva made him promise to keep tabs on Ronald Weasley. He hadn’t expected any altercations to take place until much later, where most of the guest would be smashed.

“I won’t bore you with a long speech,” Minerva continued. “Since we had those on Tuesday. No offense, Kingsley. We survived and we are here thanks to those men and women who had given their lives for ours. Let’s remember them well and do justice to their sacrifice,” and that was that.

“Hey, Severus,” William Weasley walked up to him smiling brightly.

Great, now he had Weasleys acting friendly towards him.

“Weasley.”

“How are you doing?”

“Wishing I was anywhere but here.”

The man chuckled.

“Not a fan of parties, are you?”

Severus did not deign to respond. He was starting to feel suffocated in the crowd of people.

“I was asked by the goblins to approach you,” the Weasley continued, “regarding some very specific potion research they would like you to develop for them.”

“Really.”

“Are you surprised? You have made quite a name for yourself for these past two years.”

“So people keep telling me.”

“Can I arrange for a meeting?”

“Sure, you can arrange the meeting some time after next weekend,” Severus said. He was already there for an hour and a half, perhaps Minerva could handle the Weasley-Potter situation herself and he could leave now. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Severus was damn tired. He walked into the cottage and was walking upstairs to have a moment of peace, when he heard Hazel’s voice.

“Ron, I accept your apology, but I don’t want you to be hang up on me. I wish I liked you the way you liked me, but that is simply not so. I am sorry,” she was saying. “You are my friend. You have been my best friend since forever.”

“Hazel, just let me prove it to you. I can provide for you! I know I can.”

“It’s not about that!” she raised her voice. “I don’t want some guy _providing for me._ I want a partnership. I want to be able to have my own career, to be a healer. Can’t you understand that it has nothing to do with whatever crazy shit Skeeter wrote? I wasn’t raised like a pureblood. I was raised in the muggle world. Things are different there. I am not going to be some guy’s eye candy. His extension.”

“Well, mum said I shouldn’t expect you to drop everything for me. That not every woman wants that. I get it now, but we still can get together.”

“No, we can’t. I am sorry.”

“I will prove it to you,” Weasley said stubbornly and Severus decided to turn around. He wouldn’t find any peace there and the boy didn’t seem violent like the last time and he needed a break from all the drama. Hazel could handle him, Severus was rather sure of it. He was going to slip out for a walk. And return once everyone was wasted.

***

At least the cottage was in a nice area. Severus had spent years walking around Hogwarts during his rounds. That was one of the few things he missed from his time as a teacher. 

The cottage Dumbledore left to the Order of the Phoenix was bordering the Forest of Dean, about a mile from the River Wye. It was a beautiful area, really. Severus knew of course that this was also where the Golden Trio was hiding during the war. 

He slipped past the guests and walked towards the forest.

The weather was nice, the sun was high in the sky. His shoes might not survive the trip, but he wasn’t exactly scraping by and he needed to get away from the crowd. It was too much, too close, too loud. 

The forest was quiet, pleasantly cooling, ideal for a walk, really. He didn’t even mind the birds chirping. The road took him away from the cottage.

It’s been two long years since the war ended. Almost three since he killed Albus. One would think that he should move on, maybe leave the country for a while. He could go. Easily. Accept one of highly regarded positions at the Wizarding World’s top universities or research institutes. On the continent or even overseas, in America or Australia. Maybe go to China for a bit. They had interesting ways of doing magic, aside from _foolish wand waving_.

There were options open to him. All he had to do was to reach out and grab one.

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t abandon what he worked for for so long. He won his freedom the hard way, through twenty years of painful grind. Got the scars to prove it. He was invested in the prosperity of the country he sacrificed half his life for. 

If he only could figure out what to do with his freedom.

Maybe he could talk to his former students some more, check with them. After the war he sort of locked himself in his own little world. He didn’t really know what was going on in the wider society. He imagined though that his Slytherin students may have had a hard time in this new world. Especially those less well off.

The only problem was he was officially branded a traitor. They wouldn’t really trust him. Even Draco, his godson, had pretty much told him to go fuck himself. They hadn’t spoken since the trials. Severus sent him letters, but they had all been returned unopened.

He changed directions, in order not to stray too far off into the forest. The river would lead him back to the cottage. Severus always had a pretty good sense of direction. Came with the by now automatic observation of everyone and everything he practiced since he was a young boy in Slytherin.

As he cleared a turn on the river bank he saw a woman sitting on a large rock. The woman was of course, thanks to his cursed luck, Hazel Potter-Black. He was about to turn around, when she spoke.

“You don’t have to run,” she said.

_Fuck!_

“I am not running,” he wasn’t a coward. And he was not going to run from her. Although, on second thought, that probably would be the wisest course of action. “I simply did not wish to intrude on your introspection.”

She picked up a stone and threw it into the water, and he stood there like a moron.

“Got bored of the party?” damn, he was an idiot. What was he even saying? How was it that he could destroy pretty much everyone’s confidence with a few glares, but his brain to mouth link disappeared the moment he was around the damned Girl Who Conquered these days? Come to think of it, he used to be able to reduce her to mindless fury.

“Something like that.”

_I should say something now, shouldn’t I?_

“Parties are not really my thing. Seems like there aren’t yours either. Isn’t it the second one where you are avoiding everyone?” she continued.

“Dullness, stupidity and irresponsible drinking behavior is precisely what I prefer to do in my spare time,” she looked at him with a grin.

“Now, that doesn’t really sound like you, does it?” She was quiet for a while. “They all seem to have everything figured out, left the war behind them.”

“That is highly unlikely,” Severus answered. “They project it, because that is how the human society operates.”

“Right. Do you have an answer to everything?”

“Of course not. If I did, I would start a religion,” she laughed at that, which made him felt pleasantly warm. He squashed the feeling, unwilling to unpack everything that might have meant. 

_Ohhh, itty-bitty Severus made a girl smile! That’s one for the history!_

“You’re funny. I have never noticed at Hogwarts. I mean apart from _The Advanced Potions Making_.”

“Ah, my stolen book.”

“Stolen implies I have taken it without permission. Slughorn practically gave it to me. Besides you shouldn’t leave your stuff laying around.”

“Of course, let’s blame your juvenile misdemeanors on me.”

“I like that idea,” Hazel smiled again. “I would give it back, but I am afraid it got burnt in the Room of Requirement, during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“Oh, we can add destruction of property to the ever-growing list of felonies you have committed.”

Was he flirting with her? It seemed like he was, didn’t it? That was so not what he intended.

“Gonna arrest me, officer?” she looked right at him. He almost choked on air, but she didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Which meant, she probably had no idea how that sounded.

_Or maybe she had exactly the idea and was baiting him._

No, no. She wasn’t the type. Besides, he was a spy and spent years reading her. It wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, just simple teasing.

“With that face no court would convict you,” at that Hazel blushed.

Damn, that was blatant. Severus really was out of practice. Not that he ever had much practice to begin with. His past relationships were usually short lived and usually a setup by one side of the war or the other. He probably had tried dating a dozen people Minerva or Lucius introduced him to. It never seemed to work out.

“Thank you,” she muttered flustered. Well, at least he managed to rattle her cage this time, instead of being caught off guard around her all the time.

“So, why did you run away from the party?” he decided that a change of topic was in order, before he made a fool out of himself.

“Nothing much, just had enough of people hounding me. The headmistress wanted a speech for the reopening of Hogwarts, Kingsley was worried about Ron being violent. Molly Weasley was terribly apologetic. So were the rest of the Weasleys. Ashamed too.”

“As they should be.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she was quiet for a bit before continuing in a, perhaps not so surprising direction, after all.

“Want to get out of here?”

Now, that sounded more like her. Completely straight-forward offer. Like the last time.

Fuck. He was going to end up in bed with her again, wasn’t he?

 _And it is such a terrible perspective to have sex with Hazel Potter-Black… You should run, coward…_ taunted a voice in his head.

“Sure, I am unlikely to enjoy the rapidly dissolving sobriety of your year mates.”

_What was he saying?!_

He really had to have that talk with himself. Set up some ground rules. Like no flirting or sleeping with former students.

“My place? I haven’t eaten anything, so I need to grab something to eat on the way, so you should lose the robe. It will look weird in the Muggle Thai restaurant,” he took off his robe and folded it in a daze.

Dear Merlin, she was audacious, wasn’t she?

Before he could finish his train of thought, Hazel extended her hand and he took it, only to be pulled into a side along apparition. He really had to talk to her about surprising him with the rapid transportation. First the portkey, now apparition. She was going to cause him a panic attack.

Severus had to catch her, as they landed. Apparently, she was a menace with apparition as well as the portkey. He looked around. They were standing in a dark alley just a couple of meters from a busy London street.

“Thank you. I am not really great with pretty much any sort of magical travel.”

“I haven’t noticed,” he sneered, and Hazel hit him lightly on the shoulder.

“Come on, the restaurant is just around the corner,” she took his hand and pulled him towards the street. He let her. 

He was already in deep, might as well go along with the madness.

The restaurant was small and dark-ish. There were maybe ten tables inside, but only one occupied. 

“Hazel, luv, same as always?” an older, plump, Asian woman greeted them. She must have been well over sixty. Her hair was completely whit. She was sitting behind a bar of sorts.

“Yeah, double, right, Severus?” Hazel looked up at him and he nodded. After all, he didn’t eat anything during the party either.

“Huh, got yourself a boy, didn’t ya, girl?” the woman sized him up. 

“I don’t think Severus appreciates being called a boy,” Hazel laughed.

“When you’re my age, the lot of ya are like children,” she said and turned around towards the door behind her. “Som! Chicken noodles twice for Hazel. Take away!”

“Right away, ma!” a male voice responded.

“How are the studies going, girl?” the woman asked.

“Pretty good. Exam session starts soon, but I think I am well on track to pass all my exams.”

“Good, good, a woman should have means of supporting herself in this world. And that boy of yours?” she nodded towards Severus. “What does he do?”

“Research, actually. He published some books and articles in biochemistry.”

Those were some very well crafted lies, but the woman’s eyes narrowed.

“Going for a professor, ain’t ya?”

The Asian woman was speaking about him like he wasn’t even there.

“No, he isn’t employed at the uni. We know each other from the past.”

“Ah,” the woman answered, somewhat calmer that he wasn’t abusing his position of power. “Anyway, good job going for a smart type.”

“Thanks,” Hazel chuckled. “He’s smart alright.”

“Here you go,” an Asian man, much younger than the woman, but still at least middle aged, walked out of the door with a bag in his hand. “Hi Hazel,” he nodded to Hazel and then Severus.

“17 pounds, girl,” Hazel placed the notes on the bar.

“Thank you, ma’am!”

“You don’t have to call me _ma’am_ , kid. Now, scram,” the woman said.

Severus nodded at her politely and murmured his goodbyes before being pulled out of the place by Hazel Potter.

“I know that it doesn’t look that great, but the food is amazing.”

As it turned out the food was amazing. Noodles apparently tasted much different when they weren’t made out of a plastic bag he remembered from his university years. The instant _Pot Noodles_ were nowhere near this quality. But he was very poor at the time. His grandfather refused to pay for his university education, unless it was in business or magical law.

Although perhaps, pondering the noodles while sitting next to Hazel Potter-Black in one of the Grimmauld Place’s living rooms was a wrong thing to do. He definitely needed to be on his guard to deal with the damn hellion of a woman. 

Come to think of it, she did a splendid job renovating the place. It no longer looked like a death trap, but Severus could also feel that she has not gotten rid of ancient Black Family artifacts. Despite them being made of Dark Magic. The faint scent of Dark Magic implied that they were stored behind some pretty heavy security system. The entire place felt lighter, and there was literally more light. The windows seemed bigger and, of course, clean, as opposed to a dark, dingy place he remembered. Even the portrait of Walburga Black was gone.

He didn’t really get a good look the last time he was around. Mostly because he was running in a panic like a coward, not that he would admit it to anyone but himself, but now he was grudgingly impressed. He wasn’t even able to move out of Spinner’s End, despite the house pretty much falling apart, not to mention renovate it. And that not even taking into account the Prince Manor. Although that place was in a much better state of repair, he supposed. His grandfather died only about five years ago.

“So, do you like it?” Hazel pointed at his half eaten plate of noodles.

“Edible.”

“Edible? It’s at least very good!”

“It is,” he agreed.

“I never knew there was such food,” she mused. “I mean they don’t exactly serve it at Hogwarts and the Dursleys didn’t eat anything that wasn’t firmly European, not that they shared it with me.”

Right. Her childhood. He got glimpses of it while attempting to teach her Occlumency. One of the definitely unnecessary cruelties he had put her through. He also got another taste when he slept with her last time. She had scars. Scars he refused to think about, because they could only mean he had completely failed her and Lily. Scars like the ones he himself had received from his father. 

“It is surprising that you have chosen to live here,” his attempt at changing the subject was probably going to be his downfall. The relationship history between him and Black was even more contentious than one he shared with Hazel Potter. “One would expect you to sell off this place and never think of it again.”

“It’s the last remaining part of Sirius. I know he hated it here. But I made it my own,” she shrugged. “And I cannot sell Black Family property. Too many secrets around here. Too many relics. Dark Magic. Books that cannot be found anywhere else. It is highly unlikely that the Ministry will try to search my home. And you cannot fight what you don’t know. Voldemort,” Severus flinched visibly at the name. “Sorry, the Dark Lord wasn’t the first nor the last of his kind. And I am not giving the Department of Mysteries my stuff. Potter or Black.”

Severus nodded. Prince Manor also had a library filled with books of dubious nature. Not nearly as famous as Black one, since the Princes were always more into a comparatively rather unpopular topic of potions than wand waving, but still, many of them were priceless. He wasn’t giving them up either. Not just because he was still researching Dark Magic in his spare time. 

“Although, I probably should have gotten rid of more portraits.”

“You kept the bloody portraits?”

“Not all of them. Only the more agreeable ones. The rest I put into the Gringotts vaults. I may be only one fourth Black, but I am not destroying family legacy on a whim.”

Of course, Dorea Black, her grandmother. From what Severus remembered from the few times he met the woman, she was much more agreeable than most Blacks.

“And Phineas Nigellus had helped tremendously during the war, if you care to remember.”

“I do.”

“Of course, he is also a bloody annoyance.”

He chuckled.

“You should have listened to him when I was the headmaster,” he said, before even realizing what he was bringing up. “More than once I wished I could have washed him in turpentine,” he continued, trying to sound light.

“Probably wouldn’t go over well with the Carrows running around,” she said slowly.

There was probably ten million topics he definitely should not be broaching when speaking with Hazel Potter. He hadn’t spoken of them to anyone other than Jeremy Hill. Hazel seemed to instinctively feel his unease.

“I am sure I would have fun, though. He probably treats you just like the rest of us, mere mortals,” she gave him a cheeky grin. “Severus Prince scolded by a portrait. I should ask him and sell the story to the Prophet. I’d be set for life!”

“You already are,” Severus pointed out. He definitely needed to think more about what he was saying around her, instead of simply handing her all the ammunition. The prospect of sex had turned him into an idiot.

 _Yay, Severus, let’s make the girl smile! Maybe she will put out…_ he thought to himself. Obviously, the girl already had too much power over him. Pathetic, really.

Despite the fact that he and Hazel had made peace with each other, they have never ever talked about anything other than Potter being sorry over mistrusting him (something which he deliberately caused). He might have mentioned that he was glad she was alive after all. He was on very heavy drugs at the time, so nobody could blame him for a slip.

It was difficult to avoid speaking about the war or the past. He should have thought of that before agreeing to come. A little bit more self-reflection would have been advisable.

“Ah, but the enjoyment I would get out of it,” she laughed at him, her eyes twinkling with joy. She actually had the audacity to laugh.

Oh, well, he knew of one good way to shut Hazel up. 

She was sitting close to him, so all he had to do was to lean in and claim her mouth. A small gasp of surprise escaped her. Severus run his tongue through her lower lip, asking to be allowed in. She opened her mouth for him and kissed him back enthusiastically. 

Severus grabbed her hips and pulled her into his lap, not breaking the kiss. Hazel moved her hands to his shirt and undid the buttons, as he sneaked his hands below her dress.

He broke the kiss and moved his mouth to her neck, as he felt her hands on his naked chest. She traced one of his scars and he jerked and caught her hand.

“I am sorry,” she muttered lowering her head. “It’s just… you have more than I have.”

Severus did have more scars than Hazel.

“I have fought the war longer than you,” he said.

“I didn’t mean those,” her eyes found his.

He realized that the scar she traced was much much older than the war. It was one given to him by his father. It was pretty much faded, just a slight discoloration remaining. 

“Ah,” Severus let go of her hand. Hazel returned her hand to the scars on his chest.

Hazel run her hand through down his chest. He knew she had the same kind of scars as he did. Ones that came from before her time at Hogwarts. He felt them the last time, but refused to think about those.

Severus let her touch the scars for a bit. He summoned his wand from the holster and muttered the contraceptive spell.

“I am on the potion. You don’t need this,” she said blushing lightly.

Well, at least that was handled. He dismissed his wand and distracted her by pulling her closer and pulling her dress upwards. She gasped.

“I wanted to touch...” she whined and he smirked slightly, while managing to undo her bra. Seconds later she was sitting only in her panties on top of him and Severus lowered his head to her nipple.

His cock was already hard, and she had hardly touched him. He loosened his pants, while running his mouth across her skin, teasing and biting lightly. 

“Bastard,” she panted, as he captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

It was touch and feeling and incredible rush to have Hazel Potter at his mercy. Severus teased and teased until she was panting and grinding against him, seeking friction, steadying herself by clutching his shoulders. He snapped his fingers and her panties disappeared.

She was wet to the point of dripping. He ran his fingers over her clit. He felt as she dug her fingernails into his back and then push his fingers into her heat.

“Oh!” Hazel threw her head back. “Please, fuck me, Severus...”

“I am getting there,” he freed his hard cock from his pants, loosening her slowly.

“You are a damned bastard,” she gasped against his mouth.

He brought her closer, slipping his fingers from her and guiding her to his cock.

She freed herself from his grasp and sunk down on his cock all the way down, gasping, clutching her arms to him. Her head fell on his shoulder. Severus barely managed to contain himself.

“Impatient Gryffindor,” he muttered stroking her hair, as they both tried to recover some semblance of control.

Ever so slowly she moved up and he let her set the pace. 

It felt excruciating to be still, while buried in her, but he resisted the impulse to start moving immediately. He was not a bloody teenager, even if lately he behaved like one. He steadied her as she moved up and down his shaft.

Hazel was going to kill him. Slowly. 

It took what seemed like forever for her to start moving faster and Severus could respond thrusting upwards. He captured her mouth once more in a kiss and she responded enthusiastically.

She sped up and Severus did his best to match her pace, his hands roaming her body, heightening the pleasure.

They moved faster and faster, until he felt her muscles spasming. She bit painfully into his shoulder, but he barely felt it, as her orgasm dragged him over the edge as well, spilling his seed into her heat.

When he came to himself again, she was still, her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck. Severus stroke her hair lightly. She was breathing heavily.

“You ok?” he asked.

She laughed breathlessly. “Yes, I am. Very ok.”

“Good,” he muttered into her hair satisfied.

“You are one smug bastard.”

Of course he was. He had a pretty, young witch, breathless on top of him. Severus seriously doubted there would be any guy who wouldn’t be smug in this situation.

Hazel moved slightly and his cock slipped from her. She groaned and dropped her head on his shoulder once more.

“I am not moving.”

“Ok,” said Severus. He was already a bit sleepy, but he wasn’t going to sleep in his pants. He managed to push his pants and boxers to the floor and remove his shirt without dropping the girl.

“How do you do that? The charm to remove my clothes?”

“I created it. I will teach you, but it won’t work on someone random, like in the middle of the fight or anything. Normally your natural magic would fight it off.”

“Normally?”

“Certain level of trust is necessary. Your magic must be comfortable with the caster, in order not to fight it.”

Come to think of it, it was surprising she trusted him to this extent. The spell had only worked on one or two of his former so-called girlfriends. He guessed he had saved her life a couple of times and she did save his. That did literally create a magical bond. 

He maneuvered them so that she was lying curled up to his side. Severus was definitely in favor of not moving. Hazel was tracing his scars again.

“They are just scars,” he muttered.

“They are proof we made it,” she disagreed.

Severus hummed. There was no reason to argue. He needed some sleep. It was a long day. A blanket appeared out of nowhere. Hazel must have summoned it.

Severus settled deeper into the couch. It was very comfortable.

***

_He was standing on the Astronomy Tower, surrounded by Death Eaters. Amycus Carrow was laughing, his godson looked terrified._

_“Come on, Draco. Kill him,” he heard Yaxley’s voice. “Do it, boy.”_

_Draco looked even paler._

_“I don’t think the boy can do it, Severus.”_

_Severus’ vision went black._

_“Severus, please...”_

_The green light, the lifeless eyes of his father. A scream echoing in his mind._

Severus woke up, panting, his wand in his hand, ready to attack. He was laying on a couch, covered by a blanket, in an unfamiliar place. 

“Severus?” a voice brought him back to reality. It was Hazel. She was sitting upright at the end of the couch they apparently had fallen asleep on. He jerked his hand and the wand disappeared back into a wand holster, which was laying on the armchair nearby.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and then taken her sight in. The moon was waxing crescent, so it has taken him a minute to realize that there were tear streaks on her face. “What happened?” he rose from his position.

“It’s nothing,” she shrugged.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked worriedly.

“No,” she vehemently denied. “Just nightmares,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“You didn’t,” he answered. “Just nightmares,” he repeated her statement and extended his hand. He knew very well how you could wake up in the middle of a night, cold with sweat, panicked, filled with utter despair.

Hazel took his hand, and he pulled her towards himself, reclining back on the couch. She laid, hiding her face in his chest.

Well, they were both a mess, weren’t they?

Gently, Severus started stroking her hair. It was so far outside of a comfort zone of casual sex, that he refused to think about it. She grabbed his free hand and squeezed it.

“It’s alright,” he muttered. It was wholly inadequate, but he had no idea what he should say or do. Should he ask her if she wanted to talk about it? Should he go away and leave her alone? Probably, he should have left. There was little chance of getting more sleep once he had awoken from a nightmare. 

Albus’ death was one of the worst nightmares he experienced. But now, the feeling was muted. The shock of waking up to seeing Hazel’s face in tears and then her warm, naked body against his, somehow reduced the usual reactions of self-hatred, fury, despair that would overcome him in those moments.

So, Severus was just laying there, stroking Hazel’s hair, until her grip on his hand relaxed and her breathing evened out.

Soon after, the sleep impossibly claimed him again.

***

The second time he woke up, the sun was pouring in through the windows. Hazel was still sleeping, curled up at his side, with her head on his chest, one of her legs between his.

The second time he woke up in a compromising position with The Girl Who Conquered. At least this time, he wasn’t as panicked as before. It was a bit less surprising. Besides most of the people who would have killed him for this were conveniently dead. The remaining ones weren’t nearly as scary as Sirius Black or James Potter. Both of whom were unfortunately very skilled wizards in their time. And he doubted that Hazel would have bowed to the opinion of Ronald Weasley. 

It was still weird. Somehow, at some point in time he had stopped associating Hazel Potter with either her parents, or her blasted dogfather. It was probably good or he wouldn’t have had brilliant sex with her the night before.

He noticed the change in Hazel’s breathing as she stirred.

That was a problem. How did one deal with their two-night stand, twenty years younger ex-student, with whom one had a contentious relationship most of their life? He couldn’t very well run like the last time. That would hurt any woman, and if he was right (and he usually was), he was the only man she had ever slept with.

So, no hurting Hazel Potter or Lily would really come back to haunt him. 

Dear Slytherin, he was going to be awkward, wasn’t he?

Hazel moved, propping herself on one elbow, and looked up at him, blushing slightly.

“Errr… morning,” she said.

“Good morning,” yes, that was brilliant. Dazzling, really. It was bloody surprising he had ever convinced anyone to have sex with him.

“Sorry about… you know… nightmares,” she muttered, lowering her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, you know… ruin things.”

Great. She thought she had ruined his mood with nightmares. Some of which he might have caused. Seeing as so far all they did was being casual acquaintances with tons of unpleasant history and sleeping with each other twice that probably sounded like a logical idea.

 _Be smooth, you idiot!_ The voice in his head sounded suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy. _Reassure her._

Listening to Lucius Malfoy when it came to the relationships was probably a rather smart idea. Even though he almost caused gruesome deaths of his entire family and plunged Malfoy’s name into oblivion, Narcissa still loved him. She had not divorced him, which would be acceptable under the circumstances. She went to Azkaban every time the Ministry allowed her. 

He captured her chin in two fingers and gently brought her head up so that their eyes could meet. She tried to avoid his gaze, so he waited until she brought her intense green eyes towards his.

“You are not the only one plagued with nightmares here. There is no need for apologies,” he stated, trying to convey sincerity. He thought he succeeded, because a small, shy smile graced her lips.

“Thank you,” she laid her head back on his chest. “I should get up,” she said and he heard a small pang of regret in her voice. “I have to study today for my exams,” she explained.

“Ok,” he said, a little bit relieved that he wasn’t going to have to come up with witty, _not awkward_ conversation. It seemed so much easier when they were screwing. Their relationship was a minefield and he really didn’t want to unpack it. It wouldn’t probably end well for either of them.

“Would you like a shower and a breakfast?”

_Fuck! There goes the hoping…_

“Sure,” he answered, and Hazel rolled off of him, sitting up. She was naked, and he had a perfect view of her shapely breasts. She seemed to realize that he was staring at them, because she blushed.

“A bit late to be shy, isn’t it?” he muttered.

She glared at him.

“Asshole,” Severus rolled his eyes at that.

“You cannot seriously blame me for looking. I _am_ a man.”

She muttered something about smartasses that he didn’t quite catch, still red faced. She grabbed a shirt and put it on her.

 _Damn, it’s_ my _shirt,_ he realized. 

It was obviously cleaned up and folded by the house elves during the night, because all of their clothes seemed to be. He could remember that his pants were left laying on the floor the night before and now they were neatly laying on the armchair next to the couch.

“Stealing more of my stuff, are you?”

“I am not putting my dress back on,” she responded, an annoyed note entering her tone.

“I am sorry,” he sat up behind her and kissed her neck. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.”

Hazel obviously wasn’t very comfortable with her nakedness around him, when they weren’t having sex. Not unusual in the slightest. She was young. Lust had a way of lowering inhibitions, which of course made a morning after mildly awkward. 

Severus didn’t really have the same reservations. He knew he wasn’t exactly a handsome guy, but years of working out to prevent the consequences of being cursed too often had left him with a not badly built body, that he usually covered in heavy robes. He had come a long way from a gangly, underfed teenager. 

He slid off the couch. She was blushing even more furiously now. He grabbed the rest of his clothes and extended his hand to her. 

“Shower?” he asked simply and Hazel took his hand, leading him to the bathroom. 

The newly remodeled bathroom was certainly an improvement over what Severus remembered from when Black was still alive. Hazel apparently spared no expense on restoring the old house. Done in navy blue, with massive bath and glass shower, it wouldn’t look out of place in Malfoy Manor.

He put his clothes on a cupboard, then gently removed his shirt from Hazel, leaving it on top of his other clothes and pulled her into the shower, turning the water on. He washed simply, trying not to make her too uncomfortable. She was still blushing when they left the shower and he dried up with a fluffy towel, pulled on his boxers and pants. 

“There is a new toothbrush in the mirror cabinet,” she muttered before escaping the room.

Oh well, at least he tried.

He brushed his teeth with a muggle toothbrush and managed to make his hair not look like a complete mess without a comb, by the time Hazel reentered the bathroom.

She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a Bon Jovi t-shirt. 

“Tippy made breakfast,” she said. “It’s waiting in the old kitchen.”

Severus nodded. Grabbing the rest of his stuff, he walked down. The kitchen was done just as well as the rest of the house, but it was much cosier than in most pureblood houses. A house elf was putting finishing touches on a breakfast.

“Master Prince, Master! I is Tippy!” it said cheerfully. “Would master like a coffee or a tea?”

“A coffee, please.”

He sat down, and the coffee appeared next to him, while the house elf disappeared from view.

Now, he just needed to navigate the conversation. Preferably without any major disaster. That took out a lot of possible topics. Nothing about the war, her parents, Hogwarts, Black or Lupin. Probably nothing about the Weasleys, if he didn’t want to bring up the failed proposal and the Prophet. 

He sighed. There wasn’t a lot left, was there? Although, she had said she was going to study. The uni exams were just around the corner, so he could probably ask about it without triggering a duel, right?

His internal search was disrupted, as Hazel walked into the kitchen and sat down.

“I see Tippy was going for impressing you,” she muttered.

“Hmm?” Severus looked at her questioningly. 

“My breakfast usually consists of a bowl of cereal,” he looked around the table. The stuff laid out was a typical continental breakfast. Bread rolls, bacon, sausages, some fruits, eggs and pancakes.

“Ah, house elves,” he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee. “I was quite surprised to hear you enter the university’s healing program. Everybody really expected you to join the auror corps,” he said trying to engage in an non-awkward conversation.

Hazel looked up at him.

“God, no,” she still spoke like a Muggle sometimes. “I had enough of fighting after the war. To be honest I only thought about joining the aurors, because I thought the war would last longer,” she admitted. “Extra training would probably be essential if that was the case.”

Severus nodded.

“You went to the Magical University of London, didn’t you?”

“Before apprenticing to a Potion Master for two years and writing my dissertation, yes. I had just finished after the war ended, but before I went on trial in 1982. Which was good, because otherwise I probably wouldn’t get the chance.”

“Wait, you were only 21 when the war ended, how the hell have you managed that?”

“I had finished university Potions Program in year and a half.”

“That’s a three year program,” Hazel gasped astonished.

Severus looked at her calmly.

“Ah, genius, I forget,” she rolled her eyes. “How could I? With the constant praises everybody is singing. But how do you cram three year schedule into one and a half? Didn’t you need to sleep sometimes?”

“It went much easier, once I tested out of all first year classes and one or two second year ones.”

Hazel looked at him as if he had grown two heads.

“You tested out of the classes you never attended. For the entire year?”

Severus nodded.

“Ok, fine, you are damned genius. Should have known that already, the way our Advanced Potion’s professor is pretty much in love with you, the way he speaks about you in every damn class.”

Severus chuckled.

“Isn’t it Adrian Wood?”

“Yes, it is.”

“He is not a bad practitioner, although not very inspired.”

“I think you aren’t a good person to evaluate that.”

“And why is that?” Severus raised his eyebrows.

“Because lately I have a feeling that compared to you nobody is inspired Potion Masters. My professors, my fellow students all think you are some sort of magic gift to mankind the way they speak about you.”

“Ah,” he smirked at her.

“I guess none of them actually met you,” she muttered annoyed.

“Need my help passing Advanced Potions, do you?” Severus’ smirk widened. “I have heard that it instills terror in the healing students.”

“No, actually, I maintain respectable 97% so far, and I am pretty certain of my passing my exams,” she said with only mild note of irritation.

“Impressive,” he acknowledged.

“None of the Hogwarts students have problems with Advanced Potions,” she admitted.

“Ah, I guess I crammed enough knowledge into your heads, then.”

“No need to look so smug,” she growled at him.

“Oh, let me enjoy this one moment of triumph,” he complained.

Hazel rolled her eyes at him. Ok, so maybe he was a bit too smug today.

“Well, I learnt the most from Half Blood Prince, so I guess you have to get some credit,” she admitted, as Severus bit into the bread roll. “That book was brilliant. It’s good that you published your work. I thoroughly enjoyed _The Causes and Treatment of Dark Magic Exposure._ And the articles you keep publishing. If only for the entertainment value. Not to mention _The Subversive Defensive Techniques._ To read about how to fight from a perspective of… well I guess we can call it revolutionary force like Death Eaters.”

“I am glad you appreciate them.”

“Yes, I do. I preordered the next one. Although, I think it doesn’t have a title yet.”

“I think Marcus decided on _The Treatise on the Nature of Dark Arts_ or something like that.”

“Heavy subject.”

“We lived in heavy times.”

“I guess it cannot be more controversial than _The Subversive Defensive Techniques_ and that one was received very well.”

“Probably not. It’s more academic.”

“More than the first one?”

“Probably. That one had quite a bit on practical treatment methods. This one is pure philosophy.”

“Well, I cannot wait.”

Severus nodded, but they didn’t get to continue the conversation. The burst of light came through the wall. Severus’ wand was in his hand, before he realized it was a Lynx patronus. He looked up at Hazel and noticed that she also had her wand out.

“Severus,” the patronus spoke with Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice. “I apologize for contacting you so early on a Sunday, but I need you to come to the Ministry, immediately.”

Severus put his wand away, as the patronus dissipated. 

“I guess that’s my cue,” he said standing up and grabbing the rest of his bread roll.

“Something must have happened. They wouldn’t have called you otherwise, would they?”

“Unlikely. Especially not so urgently.”

She stood up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You can apparate from the hallway. See you.”

Severus nodded and quickly left for the Ministry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, there is a new chapter. Another massive one. Over 11k I think.
> 
> I edited it a bit less than I would like, but seeing the massive chapters and multiple plots and some minor characters (both from the universe and invented ones) I had to start a notebook with important information and it took me quite a long time to write down things (and I probably still forgot some). I am becoming a little more professional about this whole writing thing, and unfortunately keeping track of things like colors of the dresses or names of store owners is a bit more of a chore than I thought.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's establishing a bit more about what's happening in general in the wider world, which is going to become more of a major plot in the future chapters.
> 
> Cheers,  
> L

As Hazel Potter-Black arrived at the university library, her thoughts were on Severus Prince. Sleeping with him the first time was completely a spur of the moment. She was drunk, sad and angry and she had always imagined what it would be like to kiss Half Blood Prince. 

Well, at least throughout the entire sixth year at Hogwarts. The Prince was so smart and hilarious. She spent hours upon hours reading  _ The Advanced Potion Making.  _ At the time she often wondered what he would be like. Even the  _ Sectumsempra  _ didn’t quite convince her to abandon her crush. Nor did Hermione’s ranting over the suspicious character of the Prince.

Of course, this all came crashing down on her during the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. She hated him back then. Hated him so badly that she attempted to use his own spell against him, to kill him. She vivisecraly wanted to see him dead and bleeding on the ground.

It was probably a good thing that he was much more skilled in magic than her. He schooled her that day, showed her how poor her skills really were in comparison. He really was better than the average wizard. Hazel had battled Death Eaters before. They often relied on the fear the robes and masks instilled in the population. Many were wrecks after spending years in Azkaban. Unimaginative, using pretty much only the Unforgivables. Their arrogance was their downfall very often.

Severus took every fight seriously, no matter the opponent, and had basically trashed her without so much as breaking a sweat. 

It had probably saved her life in the end. Over their run during the seventh year, she pursued the improvement of her duelling skills with single mindedness that sometimes scared Hermione. Even while walking she would practice wand movements, read the books Hermione brought with her, even practiced dodging when they were camping. Every night she would attempt to clear her mind for hours. 

Hazel didn’t get too much sleep at the time, but it was worth it. Worth it because she survived the battles. She still continued her training, even though it was no longer critical to her survival. When the goblins helped her with renovating Grimmauld Place, she insisted that one of the upper floors be made into a gym and a small arena with dummies similar to the ones in the Room of Requirements. It had cost an insane amount of galleons to accomplish this with the use of Wizarding Space, but it was well worth it. She had spent many sleepless nights in there, fighting with the dummies to exhaustion, so that the sweet embrace of the darkness would finally claim her. It usually also provided a respite from the nightmares, as she was simply too tired to dream.

All of this would be fine and dandy and she would have been completely over her crush, if it wasn’t for the fact that Severus Prince had gone and turned out to be a hero, almost dying for her.

And her crush had returned with possibly twice the strength. Of course, she had never been planning on doing anything about it. She wasn’t the first to have unrequited crush on a teacher nor the last. Although she might have been the first Gryffindor ever to have a crush on Severus Snape, many of her fellow healing students had one. Even some of the boys.

It was understandable, really. Rich, brilliant hero and a bad boy. Who wouldn’t have a crush? Although some of the former Hogwarts students would look at the girls sighing over his articles and commenting on their crushes with disbelief and horror on their faces. Especially Huffelpuffs. Gryffindors typically looked with disgust or made gagging noises.

Hazel herself ignored it. As much as Severus Prince was interesting, he seemed also wholly unavailable. 

Until, of course, she got drunk and had a brilliant idea of kissing him at that damnable Ministry party.

And now, the small, insignificant crush was a full blown one. Because apparently he was also sweet and somewhat awkward. And gentlemanly. 

Since they slept together, she was less intimidated by him. It was easier to think of him at the same level as the rest of them. And it was even easier to be honest with Severus Prince, not to have to pretend. He didn't expect her to be this superhero, or the perfect witch. 

It was funny how bad at flirting they were. Prince was really rather obvious, so she thought it would be a safe bet to offer sex. Straightforward, not wasting time for the bullshit pretense. And he took it. 

Hazel was somewhat shocked and embarrassed in the morning. By nightmares, by nudity. Severus on the other hand was bloody smug. It was mildly irritating, but she would have forgiven him a lot for the way he helped her after the nightmare. It was one of the really bad ones, when she dreamed that Voldemort won and killed Hermione and Ron and Teddy. Although lately Ron wasn't featured that prominently in the nightmares. 

She didn’t really think that they had any sort of a future, of course. It was sort of casual sex between two consenting adults, who probably had no one better to have sex with, unless they wanted to end up on  _ The Daily Prophet’s  _ front page.

It was not just pleasure. It was also a comfort. Comfort of knowing you can trust the other person not to betray you or literally stab you in the back. Besides, it was surprisingly nice having someone next to you, especially after a nightmare. 

Damn, she probably needed to talk it over with someone. Someone who wouldn’t think she had lost her mind. 

One option was Andromeda, but Hazel didn’t think she was going to live it down. She never before had any sort of motherly figure. Petunia Dursley was entirely uninterested and abusive. MacGonagall was too busy and removed. She spent too little time with Molly Weasley to ever breach the more embarrassing subject of growing up as a girl. Nymphadora Tonks was too close to her age. Andromeda Tonks was the first who actually taught her things, answered her questions, breached the difficult topics.

Two weeks after the battle, she appeared in the rundown, decrepit Grimmauld Place, forcefully packed her bags, throwing away most of her hand-me-down clothes and dragged her over to her own house. Within a week, Hazel had a new wardrobe and the goblins were remodelling Sirius’ house. One did not argue with the force of nature that was Andromeda Tonks, née Black. She made the appointments with Jeremy Hill, her mind healer, with a hairdresser.

At first Hazel was annoyed at someone taking over her life, a week later she was uncomfortably grateful for someone explaining her the options available to her, talking to her about her future, whether she wanted to go back to Hogwarts, go to the uni, join the aurors. Andromeda helped her navigate the Wizarding World in a way Hogwarts certainly did not teach.

Hazel often wondered how other Muggleborns navigated a world in which their parents could offer them no guidance. Of course, the Dursleys wouldn’t offer her any even about the Muggle world, so maybe it was similar enough.

She thought of asking Hermione, but her best friend was so atypical in her pursuit of knowledge, that she probably didn’t even consider it a problem. It was quite surprising that she didn’t know too much about pureblood culture. For all her obsession with understanding everything, Hermione could be another option to discuss the latest happenings with Severus Prince.

It was a terrible idea, though. Hermione was… well she was Hermione. Always logical and organized. She would try to analyse the whole situation and Hazel didn’t want to analyse. She wanted…

That was a good question. What did she want? Someone to listen to her rant, someone to give her advice, someone to tell her she was being an idiot for sleeping with him?

It was probably best if she left it alone. Maybe speak to healer Hill about it. Jeremy wouldn’t judge her. 

But the way he left… There was something serious happening at the Ministry, she knew. Kingsley wouldn’t have summoned Severus for anything lesser.

_ It’s not my problem! My problem is my exams right now and I should focus on those,  _ she told herself strongly.

And it wasn’t. She had her classes and her work. Right now, it was important that she passed all her exams. Afterwards, she could think again about Severus Prince and whatever thing that happened at the Ministry.

She wasn’t exactly in any state for fighting anyways. More likely to be a liability than any kind of help. The war did a number on them all, but she had suffered heavily from PTSD in its aftermath. It had gotten better in recent months, but still not enough to be completely rid of nightmares, panic attacks and accidental bursts of magic. The situation with the reporters and their flashing cameras at the anniversary ball has proven it quite clearly.

Using the Occlumency techniques, she managed to focus, throwing her thoughts out into a corner of her mind.

***

It was two days later that she found exactly what the Ministry had been covering up.

“Lady Hazel Potter-Black?” a man in the black uniform of a Junior Auror approached her as she was leaving the Saint Mungos after a shift. She thought she recognized him from Azkaban.

“Who’s asking?”

“Junior Auror Connelly.”

“Well, Junior Auror Connelly,” she did remember him now. H e was in Azkaban the last time she was there. Apparently, his guard duty ended. “You found the person you were looking for. What is it that the Auror Corps wishes with me?”

“The Minister wishes to see you.”

“Does he now?”

“Indeed, my Lady. If you follow me, we have a portkey for you.”

So, the Ministry did want something from former Order Members after all. Or was it just her and Severus? It was possible. Kingsley knew that it was the both of them that had the most intel on both Voldemort’s organization and Dumbledore’s scheming. 

“I know the way, thank you.”

She wasn’t about to go with a portkey with somebody she barely remembered. It wasn’t that difficult to falsify an auror uniform.

She apparated directly to the Ministry Atrium, Connelly close behind her. He was a bit stunned with her dismissal, but followed her lead.

“I am to take you directly to the Aurors’ offices.”

“As I said, I know the way,” Hazel interrupted him. The aurors at her sight allowed her through without so much as a single question. The Ministry security either would have already discovered her and sound the alarms had she been an impostor or was seriously lacking. Either option was equally possible. After all she herself had managed to break into the Ministry without much of a fuss as a fifteen year old. Either the wards did not perceive her as a threat or they could very well chuck them out, for they were completely useless.

Hazel reached the office Connelly pointed out and knocked.

“Come in, please.”

There was nothing particularly unusual about the office, apart from blackened out windows and lack of any kind of documents or papers. The gathering in the room on the other hand was most surprising.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting at the table, next to fast standing up Severus Prince, which would have indicated the seriousness of the situation straight away. The others in the office were Alice Fenwick, the Head of the DMLE, Joseph Lawerence, the Head of Auror Corps and Senior Auror Gawain Robards. The fife of them together though… major disaster at the very least. 

Hazel had personally met all of the people present. Kingsley and Severus were obviously her… friends and comrades in arms. Gawain Robards was former Head of the Aurora Corps, who due to his silent compliance during Voldemort’s regime was demoted after the war. He only kept his job as he did as there was evidence of him trying to prevent the worst atrocities. He was a leading Auror in many Death Eater trials and had interviewed her multiple times. 

Lawrence she also knew because of their cooperation in the persecutions of know Death Eaters right after the war. And because he had been trying to lure her to work for him for the better part of the last 2 years. 

Hazel was the least familiar with Alice Fenwick. She had met the woman only a few times in the courtroom and conversed with once during the first Battle of Hogwarts Anniversary Ball. Alice Fenwick was in her mid forties, a Halfblood, and had three children before the war. One of them and her husband were killed in the fighting. She used to prosecute the cases for the Ministry, although she did not seem to support the Cornelius Fudge's regime after he turned on Dumbledore, officially she remained in the Ministry employment until it was taken over by the Death Eaters. At which point, she disappeared into thin air with her entire family, only to reappear right after the Battle of Hogwarts, helping with the retaking of the Ministry. Her son died in that fighting being a Junior Auror before Voldemort's power trip. From what Hazel knew, she helped the Order by providing some of her properties as safe houses for Muggleborns.

She had no nonsense, strict attitude, although Hazel had some reservations about her. Especially concerning the lack of official response to the abuse of Azkaban prisoners. Although she supposed it was more in the hands of the aurors than anyone else and Fenwick had reasons to despise the Death Eaters.

“Lady Potter-Black,” Severus said softly, bowing slightly, as Hazel was certain some intricate rules of pureblood conduct demanded.

“Duke Price, Madam Fenwick, gentlemen, that is some gathering,” Hazel muttered finally after gathering her thoughts for a few seconds and noticing that Connelly did not follow her inside. “Has the Dark Lord returned again from beyond the grave?” she joked weakly.

Kingsley and Lawerence glared at her and Alice Fenwick and Robards looked at her with incredulity.

“Don’t even joke like that, Hazel,” growled Severus, switching to her first name.

“A meeting of The Minister, Heads of DMLE and Auror Corps, currently most senior Auror on staff, a spy and me. I have seen less conspicuous revolutionary assemblies.“

“Hilarious,” muttered Prince.

“I thought so too,” Hazel beamed at him.

Severus didn’t answer, electing to flick his wand. That caused a whole bunch of files to appear in the room. Not only that, but there were two boards, one with photos of some witches and wizards of all ages, including not a few Death Eaters. There were names written out underneath them. Some wands and other objects that Hazel didn’t place immediately were also attached to the board. The other board with a multitude of photos of one location hung on it. The photos were the most gruesome, disturbing images Hazel had seen since the end of the war. The title on top read “Sunday, May 7th”.

The pictures were wizarding, but there was nothing moving on them. Instead they depicted a large room, perhaps a ballroom or large mansion living room. On the floor and chairs were bodies. At least ten of them. Some were almost torn apart, others were simply covered in blood. The worst thing was that some of the victims of the atrocity were kids. She estimated that they weren’t even Hogwarts’ age. If Hazel did not partake in the war, she would have undoubtedly vomited at the sight.

“ _ Sunday, bloody Sunday _ ,” she said breathlessly. Severus Prince turned sharply towards her at the words. His face was the only incredulous one this time. 

“Seriously?!” he asked, but the others looked simply confused.

“Huh?” asked Kingsley.

“It’s nothing,” muttered Severus. “I just sometimes think that Potter has been hit on the head one time too many during the war. There are a couple of vital parts missing in there.”

“Sometimes I think I haven’t been,” Hazel grinned at him. “But then it must have happened during my childhood, since I have been like that since I discovered _Black Sabbath_ during the summer after my second year,” a light conversation would take her mind off the photos and the dead children, refocusing her thoughts rather than dragging the memories of her fellow students' bodies sprawled in grotesque positions, faces forever sculpted into a grimace of fear. 

“Slytherin save me,” sighed Severus.

“Oh, come on, I take particular enjoyment from  _ War Pigs _ .”

Severus rolled his eyes at that. Others looked even more confused.

“It’s a muggle song,” Hazel explained.

“You are talking about songs right now!” Alice Fenwick exploded at them. “People died, as you can see!” she pointed towards the board and Hazel thought that she would rather not see if she could pick. “We have seventeen victims and you two are joking around! This is not a laughing matter!”

Severus straightened and put down a file he was looking through. His gaze directed at the Head of DMLE.

“Madam Fenwick, I empathize. It  _ is  _ a  _ terrible tragedy _ ,” Hazel said before he had a chance to respond, looking at the ceiling. “And a  _ disgusting crime _ .” Fenwick glared at her. “I have lost my parents before you could have remembered them. My godfather died a fugitive, despite being innocent almost 5 years ago, in battle, trying to protect me. The only other father figure I have ever had, Remus Lupin, died in the Battle of Hogwarts with his wife, leaving a newborn child behind, my godson. Edward is even younger than I had been when my parents died. I had buried countless friends and acquaintances. Now, working in Saint Mungo I see death on a daily basis,” she moved her gaze to the woman. “You may not enjoy my coping mechanism, you may even find them disturbing. But don’t judge me. There is only so much a person can take before developing them or cracking up... Or both,” she added after a moment of thought.

Alice Fenwick slowly nodded. She would have been satisfied with her impromptu speech, if it wasn’t for an unreadable gaze Severus Prince sent her way.

“I am tired, Kingsley. I have been working the entire day and my exams are coming up. I’d appreciate it if you could let me know what you need from me,” Hazel asked flipping through several files. They were all Death Eaters’ profiles. Divided into categories “dead”, “Azkaban”, “presumed dead”, “on the run” and a few others. She frowned. Were they looking into Death Eater connections of the victims? That wouldn’t be a bad place to start, she supposed.

“We were hoping, Lady Potter,” Robards answered. “That you could tell us which Death Eater could have done it,” he waved towards the board. “As you can see the situation is quite serious. When the media finds out, we are going to have a massive panic on par with the attack on Longbottoms in 1982. I am sure you understand the possible repercussions of such an event. It’s about protecting the communities from lashing out and vigilante justice.”

“The murders were committed on Sunday. We suspect seven to ten attackers, but it could have very well be a few less or a few more. The crime was a gigantic mess. We had difficulty specifying with so many dead, and such a gruesome method of killing,” Kingsley explained. “The Crawley family, this guy is Robert Crawley,” he pointed at the picture. “They were having a party, we assume celebrating the end of the war anniversary. Their attackers collapsed their wards using brute force and murdered everyone inside, apart from one five year old boy. He couldn't tell us much. He was hiding from his cousins when the attack happened," Kingsley sighed. "This sort of organized attack is definitely Death Eaters’ MO. They even tried to disguise it as another werewolf attack, but it was clumsily done. Almost immediately we knew that it was a group of wizards, who have done that.”

Hazel nodded and turned to the board.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that they were celebrating the end of the war. Rather commiserating their defeat, because your Crawley guy was definitely a Death Eater. A marked one, not just a supporter.”

She heard some gasp behind her.

“I am sorry, how can you possibly know that?” Lawrence asked.

“I’ve met a lot of Death Eaters over the years,” answered Hazel calmly, studying the picture of a smiling man in his mid thirties. It was true in a sense. “I think this one,” she pointed at a brown haired man in his early thirties, “was also one. I am not entirely sure about him, though.”

“That’s impossible. There hasn’t been a single indication that any of these people are in any way connected to the Death Eaters or even Snatchers,” Robards objected.

“Well, with how many marked Death Eaters have been, you are bound to miss one or two guys, right?”

“We have that handled,” answered Lawrence calmly. “Most of the marked ones are either dead or imprisoned. It's only a matter of time before we catch up to the rest.”

“Most of them? That’s impressive. I should start reading the Prophet again, then. If the Ministry had so many successes lately,” Hazel said seriously. “To dismantle that sort of organization couldn’t have been easy. I am guessing you are going to have to expand the Azkaban guards, then?”

“Expand the guards? Why would we do that?” Robards asked.

“Well, unless you killed most of the, of course, that number of guards would be insufficient for the influx of new prisoners, surely,” Hazel felt confused.

“Wait a moment,” Severus interrupted. “How many people do you estimate to have been marked Death Eaters? Not supporters or anything, just the marked ones?”

“Well, our best estimate is around fifty to a hundred, we now have thirty two in custody in Azkaban plus we know for sure the deceased number to be...”

“Fifty to a hundred?!” Hazel had never heard Severus Prince actually shouting in person. His voice was almost always quiet and measured. She had seen a memory of him shouting while arguing with Dumbledore, but that was just once through the many years she had known him. To hear him shouting now stunned her speechless. “I have personally delivered to you over 350 names of people I suspected to be Death Eaters,” he pointed a finger at Kingsley. “How exactly do you think fifty guys have kept the entire Great Britain from getting any sleep for years?”

“Well, Severus...”

“Well, what? What’s the current population of Wizarding Britain? Three and a half, four million?“

“3.74 ,” answered simply Alice Fenwick.

“And you think 50 guys had been shaking the entire country for three decades?” growled Severus. “You have to be joking. Have you even started working out the Death Eaters’ organizational structure? You bloody have Lucius in your custody and willing to cooperate with you. And you haven’t used him at all, have you?”

“These men,” Robards indicated the board, “are beyond reproach! Two of them were aurors. I don’t think that getting  _ a convicted Death Eater  _ casting dispersion on they character is any way to go about this! They were stellar members of the Wizarding Community!”

“So was Lucius,” Severus pointed out. “Until you caught him red-handed running around in a mask, trying to kill teenagers. Not to mention it was the second time around. The first time the Ministry was happy to take his gold and swallow his lies.”

“ _ Oh right,  _ because he isn’t your best friend,” growled Robards. “You even testified for him. A perjury if I ever heard one!”

“Oh, was it? Maybe you can prove it then!” Severus smirked. “An auror who pissed his pants the moment the Dark Lord's specter had appeared and bowed to lowly Death Eaters!”

“Shut up! You blasted Death Eater!”

“Oh, am I now? A Death Eater? Twenty years I spied so that the cowards like you could sleep like babies in their beds. Twenty years of my life, so that you didn’t have to cower before the madman.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have joined him in the first place,” retorted Robards.

“I have paid for my mistakes dearly, have you paid for yours? Bumped down from Head of Auror Corps to Senior Auror? Do you sleep at all with the atrocities that happened on your watch?” taunted Severus.

Hazel was tired of stupid arguments.

“Enough!” she shouted. “Both of you, for Merlin’s sake! Senior Auror Robards, if it wasn’t for Severus, we would all be dead or on our knees swearing allegiance to a despicable monster. Severus,” she looked at him annoyed. “You are not going to convince anyone of the seriousness of the issue by baiting them into an argument. Which you should know, since it somehow never worked with me.”

Robards only glared at her. Severus, on the other hand, simply looked at the ceiling and shook his head. He didn't even try to retort or belittle her. That was a new one.

“Hazel is right,” said Kingsley. “I will assign a special task force to investigate all the names on your list, Severus. I promise you that. And we are going to use Lucius Malfoy if necessary. Or any other Death Eater who might wish to cooperate. The guilty of the horrendous crimes committed in Lord Voldemort’s name should be found and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I am sure you agree, Alice, don’t you?”

“I do. I was not aware of the list, Joseph,” a cold, measured look landed on the Auror Corps’ Head. Hazel had an impression that the coming days would be very difficult for Joseph Lawrence.

“To be honest, ma’am, we believed Duke Prince to be wrong,” he admitted with a grimace. “He estimated the size of the organization for anything between three to ten thousands. It seemed impossible. In the early eighties we barely caught or killed forty or fifty Death Eaters. Such a number would be staggering.”

“Then you have seriously miscalculated,” said Hazel sitting down and flipping through the files. “I don’t have as much information as Severus, but I do know that a hundred Death Eaters is a gross underestimation. Thousands sounds much more likely.”

“Do you have any information whatsoever on those men, Severus?” asked Kingsley pointing towards the pictures on the board.

“Not particularly. I have not met them or at least I have not known them to be Death Eaters. But there were many I did not know. That was the intention. The Dark Lord knew them all, I only those I worked with or were friends with. Neither of those men were old enough to join in the late seventies. They must have joined this time around, and I am less familiar with those who did not attend Hogwarts.”

“Some help you are,” muttered Robards and Severus glared at him before continuing.

“The Death Eaters’ organization was typical of traditional terrorist organizations or a spy network. It operated in cells. People weren’t meant to know each other beyond one’s immediate circle of partners in crime. I knew the most recent Inner Circle - Lucius, the Lestranges, Regulus Black, before he turned traitor, Avery, Goyle, Crabbe. The people I joined with. The ones who went on to become Dark Lord’s most valued and most cursed. You didn’t really expect me to be involved in day-to-day operations. That was the task for Bellatrix, Lucius or Yaxley. They knew the people who did the grunt work.”

“Explain, please,” asked Alice Fenwick.

“It’s pretty simple, actually. Let’s say Lucius, an Inner Circle member has about ten to twenty Mid-Circle members who answer to him. He knows who to contact them, and they know how to contact him, but they in principle, before the Dark Lord went mad, didn’t know each other names, so if a Mid-Circle member was found out, he wouldn’t be able to rat out the Inner Circle members. The Mid-Circle member would only know their small group of Outer Circle members and occasionally a couple other Mid-Circle, if they worked together often enough. Some of them were spy networks, others fighting networks. It all depended on who was good at what. That was of course, before the Dark Lord went mad. Lucius tried his hardest to keep the structure, so did the others. For the most part they succeeded, but you would find people like Karkaroff, who knew too much and died for it.”

“So, who were you responsible for?”

“No one, I was first a researcher and later on a spy and a researcher. The Dark Lord considered my duties  _ too important  _ to waste my life in a fight.”

“Would be smart of him, if you didn’t turn out traitor,” muttered Robards.

“Probably,” allowed Severus.

“Wait a second. If they all don’t know each other's names, how are we supposed to find them?” Alice Fenwick interrupted.

“Bit by bit. Seeing as you have a lot of names from Severus, I can give you some, I think. Most people get careless after a while of working together. They will know names, sometimes just one sometimes ten. You have to get the Death Eaters to talk,” Hazel said reasonably and they all turned to Severus.

“What do you want me to say? She is right,” he shrugged. “Do you want me to wave a magic wand and make all your problems disappear?”

Hazel snorted at that. 

“Do you have a spell to identify the Death Eaters?” asked Lawrence eagerly.

“He is messing with you, Mister Lawrence,” Hazel explained. Seriously, sometimes men were like children. “It’s a Muggle thing. Do you need my assistance for anything else?”

Kingsley shook his head.

“No, thank you, Hazel. I know you are quite busy. Thank you for making time for this.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice, Kingsley, but I understand, don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else, but, I am afraid I cannot help with any investigation full time.”

“Of course not,” Kingsley nodded. “I am aware that the spring exam session is coming up Mostly because you keep bringing it up,” he joked lightly.

Hazel smiled at him. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who liked to break the tension and horror with mildly inappropriate humor.

“Seeing as you have gotten the answers you were looking for from me, I shall leave you to it. Madam Fenwick, gentlemen, good luck with the investigation,” Severus was staring at her intensely, before standing up.

“My lady,” he bowed. “Good luck with your exams.”

"Thank you, Your Grace," she responded. "I shall see you on Saturday." 

Severus nodded. 

He was sometimes rather weird in the way he spoke to her in public. Hazel knew he did that with all the pureblood lords, ladies and heirs, but sometimes when he did it with her, it seemed out of place, like he didn’t know what to say or do, so he relied on his training in wizarding customs. Especially since, he kept switching between proper form of address and casual conversation.

Nevertheless, Hazel wasn’t about to be roped into working for the Ministry even as a consultant. And spending more time with the indomitable Duke Prince was probably a very bad idea anyway. She didn't have that much to contribute either. A few Death Eater names, some testimonials. 

"Kingsley, if you arrest some of the Death Eaters, send me their pictures. I will sort through my memories, maybe I can testify." 

"Thank you, Hazel. I definitely will." 

And that was that. 

***

It took another two days for the press to catch the whiff of the seventeen dead bodies in the house of Robert Crawley. 

Hazel was somewhat impressed that Kingsley had managed to keep it under wraps for so long. He must have run a much tighter ship than Fudge, although that wasn't probably very difficult. 

"Have you heard?!" Hannah Abbott implored, part excited, part horrified. 

They were all sitting at the lunch table at the University, taking a break from furious studying for the exams. 

"Heard what?" asked Neville. 

"About the Crawley family!" Hannah rushed to explain. 

"Oh, yeah. I read about it this morning." 

"Is it in the  _ Prophet _ ?" Hazel asked. 

"Yes. Seventeen dead found in the Crawley residence. By Skeeter" Padma Patil explained with a grimace of distaste. "Apparently, they had Death Eater connection." 

"And by connections," added Jerry Masters, "she means that Robert Crawley was a Death Eater. There were four of them among the bodies." 

"Four?" Neville looked at him slightly confused. 

"Four suspected former Death Eaters," Jerry explained, almost spitting at the words  _ Death Eaters _ .

"You say that like there were a different species," Hazel muttered, picking absentmindedly at her food. 

"They might as well have been. Masters have Muggle blood since the fifteenth century, when the Head of the House fell in love with a Muggleborn at Hogwarts," he pronounced proudly. 

Neville and Hazel looked at each other and snorted. 

"What?! It's true!" 

"You sounded like Draco Malfoy there, mate," Neville said. 

"No, I didn't," Masters protested. 

"Yeah, you did. Even the same tone of voice," Hazel agreed and Neville chuckled. 

"Just don't put too much stock into all this blood thing, mate. Being proud of your family isn't the problem, neither is being a Pureblood or Muggleborn. The problem begins when you take it too far and start believing that being a certain thing makes you better than other people that are not that thing," said Neville.

"Besides, not only Purebloods were Death Eaters. Plenty of Halfbloods served the Dark Lord as well," Hazel pointed out.

"Oh, well," Masters muttered.

"Just relax, Jerry" said Neville and turned his attention to Hazel. "You don't read  _ The Prophet _ , so how did you know about the murders?"

"Kingsley thought at first it was a Death Eater killing, so he asked me to look at the crime scene photos to see if I recognized some specific patterns that could point to the identity of the attackers," she admitted. "Instead I told him that Crawley was a Death Eater himself."

"That's terrible!" screamed Jessica Carter. "You had to look at those awful photos!"

"I fought in a war, Jessica. I've seen worse. Or at least similar in real life, not just in the photos."

"I know. I don't know how you did that," Jessica answered gullibly and Hazel saw Neville rolling his eyes at the comment.

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

"But still! To fight like that against You Know Who! They killed people," Jessica lowered her voice to a whisper for the last sentence, as if it was some sort of secret.

"I had no clue all this time," Neville muttered low enough that only Hazel heard him.

"It was war. We did what we had to. That's all. They killed lots of good people, we killed some of them, captured some, the rest is in the wind."

"And now it seems somebody killed some more of them," added Michael Corner, who was studying law and business with Hermione. "Good."

"Good?" Hazel blanched at the statement. "They killed their families, their children too. And even if they were Death Eaters they have the right to a bloody trial like everyone else!"

"I agree with Michael," interjected Thomas Yeats, an Irish healing student. "I am not going to cry over a couple of Death Eaters either. I lost an aunt, an uncle and two cousins to those madmen. Only because my uncle was a Muggleborn. Got what they deserved I say."

Hazel didn't respond. She simply couldn't believe her colleagues. The problem wasn't the carelessness with which they treated human life. It was the fact that it made them no better than Death Eaters. Death without trial was always wrong because it messed with the society. It was so with Voldemort's regime, but should not take place in their world. Because if that was the case, what did they fight for?

Neville caught up to her, as they were going back to the library.

"You ok?" he asked gently.

"Ok? No. How could I be ok?" she answered chuckling lightly.

"Yeah, I get it. They have no fucking clue, do they?"

"It's not just that, you know? It's just this… disassociation of everyone and anyone who followed Voldemort. They were just like us. Wrong side, wrong ideas, but they were and are people."

"I get it, Hazel. But people don't look at it like that. They weren't there. They didn't see! They only know that Death Eaters have murdered their relatives. That Voldemort sent them as a gift to dementors. That they tortured them for the fun of it. So they don't care."

"We killed too! Sure, we didn't have a choice, but we fought them without reservation. I killed people, Neville. At least a couple Death Eaters died by my hand that last year, even if we don't count Voldemort. I may not have used  _ Avada Kedavra, _ but I shoot spells with intent to kill."

"I know. I did too!" Neville said in a rushed tone. "But they didn't. They don't get what it means to take a life, even as a soldier. To make that choice. They were fucking hiding and licking Death Eater shoes that year. They don't feel this."

"Ah fuck it, you know. I think I was an idiot back. I thought you know, if we won, things would be different. You know, better maybe. Naive bullshit. Nothing changed. The same conditions that made Tom Riddle become Voldemort and people to follow here are still here."

"Yeah, we were naive. Kids sent to fight a war nobody wanted to fight. Too scared. Too compliant, but that doesn't mean nothing can change, Hazel," Neville said. "Kingsley is reforming. He has good ideas. I have heard that some children abuse bill is going to be introduced, so there is progress. Maybe not as fast as we would like, but I think it will get better."

"Maybe," Hazel shrugged. "You are a good friend, Neville," she added, smiling at him.

"So are you. And I know you cut yourself off a bit from everything. I think it's good. Don't worry about idiots like Corner or Yeats. Yeats wouldn't get it if kicked in his ass, and Corner has always been an idiot."

Hazel chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Neville."

"Hazel!" Yeats shouted to her, interrupting their conversation. "Are you coming? We are going to repeat the material for Advanced Potions."

"Yes, yes, I am coming."

"He fancies you, you know that?" asked Neville.

"No, I didn't," Hazel sighed. "And I would have preferred you haven't mentioned it right now."

"He waited to interrupt until you kissed me on the cheek. Should I tell him we are just friends?" he asked teasingly.

"No, I am not interested in him. Just as you said he would never get it. I am not lucky as you to have Hannah, who was there and fought with us."

"Yeah, she's one of the good ones. I am going to marry her one day and you are going to be my best mate!" Neville said.

"I am a girl, Neville," Hazel pretended to explain it to him as if he was a slow child.

"I don't care," he laughed. "You are the best friend I have ever had."

"Thanks, mate. You and Hermione are the best friends I ever had too."

"Thanks. Now run before Yeats combusts from jealousy."

"Bye, Neville!" she called out before racing towards the Healers' Wing of the University.

***

Working in the Saint Mungo's Long Term Children Ward was somehow both downright terrible and optimistic. Most of the children in the ward were dying from incurable wizarding diseases. Most of them wouldn’t reach their seventeen birthday, they wouldn’t be able to attend any school, not to mention a boarding school like Hogwarts. They spent most of their time if not all in Saint Mungo. They knew and understood the gravity of the situation, for they all knew other children from the ward who died.

And yet, there was peace and calmness about the place. The children were still children, even if they were terminally ill. They would still be mischievous, occasionally misbehave. They would play and learn like any other child, of course, accounting for the limitations of their conditions. Hazel wasn’t sure why she chose that particular ward, but it was much simpler to work with the kids than adults, who occasionally, when she covered another ward, demand miracles of her. After all, she survived the Killing Curse, she should be able to cure this or that, right?

Kids didn’t expect miracles, they bargained less. Perhaps it was because their understanding of death was lower than in adults, but Hazel did not think so.

Sometimes, she would stay a bit after her shift to tell them stories about Hogwarts and Voldemort and her friends. And they would be so ridiculously grateful for each of the small snippets of her history. The bravery with which they faced death inspired her and sometimes she found herself sharing a secret about her own death with them. What she felt when she herself died in the Forbidden Forest, the hope, the clam, the peace she felt from the other side. Hazel wanted them to know that there was nothing to fear.

She was nearing the end of her shift and as she walked through the hallway to file the paperwork and inform the next shift of the developments, a small body slammed into her.

“Tommy,” she sighed. “What did I tell you about running around in the hallways?”

“Sorry, Miss Hazel,” the boy looked slightly embarrassed. “We were just playing.”

Tommy was suffering from a rather rare magical disease that made his body reject his magic called  _ Magical Dissonance _ . It was a stupid name for a disease that would kill him before his tenth birthday. Most of the time he was ok-ish. Although the rejection meant that often he would suffer from breathing problems and pain.

The real problem started when a bout of accidental magic happened. The boy would suffer terrible pain, often described as if he was being ripped apart from inside. His magic tearing on his cells. After such a bout, he would be unable to do much for a couple of weeks, as his body slowly healed itself while he was pumped full of the magic repressive potions. Unfortunately, the potions lost potency as they were used more and more. The repressed magic would come back twice as strong and as time went by more and more accidental magic happened, eventually killing the patient.

The oldest patient ever to die from the disease according to the records was ten years and about six months old.

“Is there something wrong, Tommy?” she asked him gently, when she led him back into his room.

“No, Miss. I am just a bit sick of the hospital,” he said, but she didn’t quite believe him

“Are you sure?” she knelt next to him, as he sat down on his bed.

“When I die, Miss, will my parents be sad? My mum is always so sad when she thinks I am asleep.”

“Oh, Tommy. Yes, of course, they will be sad,” she said and the tears appeared in the boy’s eyes. “I will be sad too. But your mum will know that you will be happy and you will not hurt anymore,” she gently wiped his tears with a tissue. “And I will know, you will be safe and happy.”

“But they will be ok, right?”

“Yes, Tommy, of course, they will be. And I am sure your little brother will also be very sad. They will always remember you, because you are such a wonderful boy. And they will always be a little sad that you aren’t with them.”

“Oh,” he hung his head.

Hazel sat down next to him

“You know, how my godfather died when I was fifteen. I was very sad about it for the longest time, you know. I wished I could tell him how much he meant to me. How much I loved him. Just one more time. To hear his laughter. To smile at his not so funny jokes. To be hugged by him. I am still sad that he isn’t here. But I am less sad. Because I know he is there with my mum and dad, and my other godfather, Remus. And they are happy, safe and always well. I bet he is playing pranks with my dad all the time and they laugh and watch me and Edward, Remus’ son. And they will always watch over me. Just like you will watch over your parents and your little brother,” she smiles sadly at him.

“I will?” Tommy perked up.

“Of course you will. You love them very much and you will want to watch over them. To make sure they are happy and safe too.”

“I will!” he promised.

“For now, you can just hug them and tell them you love them as often as you can, right?”

The little boy nodded resolutely.

It was so sad, and yet so inspiring for a little, dying boy to be thinking of his parents being sad when he died. Hazel admired the perception of the children. They were so much smarter than adults, so much less focused on the unimportant noise of the world and really saw what life was really about. Those relationships, the moments with the loved ones. A few words and a hug meant so much more than the galleons. She wished she knew it at fifteen.

***

Lost in her thoughts about Tommy, Hazel didn’t notice someone coming from the other corridor towards healer’s entrance and this time she managed to slam directly into someone. It was just one of those days.

“I am terribly sorry,” she muttered.

“Do you often go around slamming into people, Potter?”

She raised her head to see the black eyes of Severus Prince staring at her.

“Sorry, Severus. I was a bit lost in thought.”

“A bit?” he muttered annoyed.

“It was a long shift. What are you doing here?”

“I was delivering special potions’ order. I brew some of the most complex potions for Saint Mungo.”

“Ah, I would have thought you would be busy with the case.”

That only seemed to increase his irritation, but this time she thought it wasn’t directed at her.

“Has something happened?” she asked.

Severus Prince looked thoughtful for a moment and then he looked around quickly, as if checking if anyone was listening. Hazel also noticed a jerk of his hand as if he was casting a spell.

Damn, he was good. If she didn’t have a lifetime of abuse and fighting, she would never have noticed the casting.

“I would rather not talk about it here. Would you like to have a coffee? There is a Muggle place around two streets from here that serves a decent cup. Way better than the swill you can get upstairs.”

Hazel shrugged.

“Sure, I was going to have one at the uni, anyway. But I have to change first,” she motioned with her hand to her healer’s robes.

Severus nodded. 

“I’ll wait.”

Twenty minutes later they entered a small Muggle cafe and sat down next to the window. The place was called  _ The coffee house _ , which was rather uninspiring as far as Hazel was concerned.

“What can I get for you today?” a friendly waitress immediately appeared next to their table. Her name tag pronounced her name to be Anna. 

“I would like a large latte,” Hazel answered as Severus looked at her questioningly.

“Double espresso for me, please,” Severus said to the waitress.

“Of course, be right back,” the waitress smiled and left them.

“Why didn’t you want to talk back at Saint Mungo?” Hazel asked, but Severus waved his hand slightly, indicating they should wait with the conversation and looked out the window. It was a nice sunny day in London and there were a lot of people hurrying up through the streets.

“A bit paranoid, are we?” she muttered so low that even Severus wouldn’t be able to hear her over the background noise of the cafe’s patrons.

The waitress returned promptly with their coffees.

“Thank you,” muttered Hazel and then, once more, if she was a bit less observant and paranoid she would not have seen Severus’ jerk of hand as he cast a privacy spell.

“I have been removed from the case,” he stated calmly.

“What?” Hazel asked surprised.

“Robards took over the case, as you uncovered that the victims have been Death Eaters, Kingsley and Madame Fenwick decided it was best left to the Auror Corps to investigate,” Severus explained. “Gawain Robards hates me. He thinks that he has been unfairly treated in comparison to me, which I admit he might be right about.”

“No, he’s not,” protested Hazel. “You spent twenty years spying and being a target of Voldemort’s rage. You fought when no one else was fighting. Robards had barely done anything,” she took a sip of her coffee. Despite the uninspired name, the coffee was very good.

“He did manage to save a couple of people and prevent some atrocities,” Severus riposted.

“And participated in another hundred of them. Without almost any opposition.”

“So have I.”

“True,” Hazel admitted. “However, you did it for the sake of spying, prepared to die at any turn. He did it to save his own skin. He didn’t even fight until we had already clearly won. And all that happened was that he was demoted to Senior Auror from Head of the Corps.”

“Fair enough,” Severus conceded. “Nevertheless, he hates me and I don’t think the Ministry is that much interested in finding out who killed the Crawleys and their guests, once it turned out at least two of them were Death Eaters. Especially since there were two aurors and a Ministry employee among them.”

“Two aurors and a Ministry employee?”

“Dankworth and Lowely were aurors until their deaths and Keaton worked in the Department of Magical Transportation. I am not entirely sure what he was doing, but he was a senior employee.”

“So surprising,” sarcasm was audible in Hazel’s voice.

“Most Death Eaters came from the successful members of the wizarding society. Businessman, aurors, senior employees of the Ministry of Magic. Those who were in power to an extent. Those who feared the changes the increased tolerance of Muggleborns would bring. A lot of them attended Hogwarts, which as you well know is the most elite school in Magical Britain. Some attended some of the Irish schools, others were home schooled, but since most were from old, powerful families, it is easy to see how the Ministry employees were the prime recruiting target for the Dark Lord.”

“Somehow it doesn't penetrate thick skulls in the Auror Corps.”

Severus chuckled.

“I am sure you are glad now not to be under Ministry employment,” he said. “Nevertheless looking a bit too close could have revealed that some on our side were responsible for the murder at the Crawleys.”

“You really think so?”

“It makes more sense than infighting in the Death Eaters’ factions. It wasn’t just the Order that held a private party on May 6th. There were a lot of them, people celebrating, drinking, commiserating their fallen comrades. There were more resistance movements than just the Order too. Many fought valiantly against the Dark Lord, even if we were the most successful. And a lot of us know the names of the Death Eaters who weren’t captured. The Ministry is doing a shit job of identifying them.”

“Yeah, I mean fifty to a hundred Death Eaters. There were more at the Battle of Hogwarts itself. Lawrence is either incompetent or he purposefully just ignores the problem.”

“Lawrence is not a powerful Head of the Auror Corps. He is a Muggleborn, and while Kingsley might have made a point of promoting him, in the grand scheme of things it was probably a wrong move to make. He should have given the position to a Pureblood that was beyond reproach. Such a person would have an easier time bending the old fools that run a Ministry to their will. Lawrence has little chance, unless some serious steps are taken by Kingsley and the senior Ministry officials.”

“You are much better versed in politics than I am,” answered Severus before sipping his coffee.

“I have been Lucius Malfoy’s best friend for the majority of my life. And I know how the system works. I have been in its clutches before.”

“It doesn’t sound very faith inspiring.”

“Politics rarely is.”

“So, do you think it’s really one of ours?”

“Most of our  _ soldiers, _ ” the strong emphasis on the word  _ soldiers _ was impossible to be missed, “were really just children. Children we trained in killing and pretty much left to their own devices afterwards. Soldiers don’t adapt well to civilian life. Especially ones that were so young. Suddenly thrust in the world which doesn’t need soldiers anymore, but doesn’t deal with the opposite side. And that opposite side killed their families, their friends and often hurt them deeply.”

“I can relate to that one, but I would never take the matters into my own hands,” muttered Hazel, and Severus’ gaze suddenly snapped to her.

“Not everyone reacts to a war in the same as you do.”

“And how’s that?”

Surprisingly, Severus turned his gaze away and to the street. Hazel decided she wasn’t going to get an answer.

“So, are you going to try to work your way back into the investigation?”

“No. I have done my part. I am not made for the political reality of our world. It’s an annoyance I cannot stand. I would have murdered half of the Wizengamot for being useless fools.”

Hazel chuckled and finished her coffee..

“I can definitely relate to that.”

“I am sure you can. We are soldiers. We do not fit in the civilian society. Perhaps, with time, we can, but so soon after the war...”

Hazel nodded solemnly.

“Thank you for telling me this.”

Severus waved her off. 

“You should be aware that some of our fellow _comrades_ might have done it. And the Ministry will definitely not want to pursue this angle. The war heroes involved in murder. That would not only shake the faith of the people in the Ministry, but also rip through the society even more than the war did,” Severus’ face was serious and Hazel didn’t really know how to follow this up.

Was it true? Were her friends somehow involved? There were few that Hazel would immediately say couldn’t do it. Hermione, Neville, Hannah, Professor McGongall. Severus himself had a damn good alibi in her books. But what about the others? They all killed during the war. Even Molly Weasley killed Bellatrix Black. Although Hazel really couldn’t imagine the gentle, comforting woman to be capable of cold-blooded murder. Neither was Arthur Weasley. Was Ron capable of this? The twins? Or Seamus, Dean, Oliver? She truly didn’t know.

She remembered very well that people were capable of so much more than she could imagine. After all, they were soldiers…

Once more she was glad that only five people were capable of accessing Grimmauld Place.

***

"So, how are you feeling this week, Hazel?"

Mind Healer Jeremy Hill was a Muggleborn wizard in his mid fifties. He was always immaculately dressed in pristine wizarding robes and cleanly shaven. A picture of a wizarding professional in his prime. He had perfectly manicured fingernails and there wasn't a single hair out of place in his red mane. At first he reminded Hazel of Lucius Malfoy, but one should only look into his blue, gentle eyes to see that the first impression was entirely wrong. 

Although Hazel knew there was more to The Malfoy Lord than the image he portrayed, she couldn't believe that he could have ever reached that level of gentleness and empathy. 

"Alive?"

"Is that a question, Hazel?" 

"I guess not. I am doing ok-ish," she said.

"Ok-ish. That sounds somewhat optimistic. How are your nightmares?"

"Not too good. I had them most of the week. It's been worse than usual. I have barely slept for most of the week."

Jeremy put away a quill he was writing with and looked at Hazel.

"It was to be expected. Unfortunately, this entire time is dedicated to remembrance of the time that is most traumatic for you. We talked about this. These sorts of events can easily bring back unpleasant memories."

"I know. It doesn't make it better."

"No, no, I don't imagine it would. Have you been taking your medications?"

Hazel was on a regimen of anti-anxiety and anti-depression potions pretty much since the end of the war. The doses had been significantly lowered since that time, especially of the anti-anxiety, but she still required them on a daily basis.

"Yes, although I have been trying to limit the intake of sleeping potions. Only when absolutely necessary."

"Good, good. What are the nightmares about?"

"The usual. Dumbledore's death, Severus' almost dying, Fred's death, Sirius falling through the Veil. Voldemort's rising from the cauldron. The Dursleys. I have a lot of material."

"I understand that you do, Hazel.” Jeremy nodded slightly and noted something in his files. "Are there any new nightmares? Or are any old ones becoming more frequent?"

"I have been dreaming perhaps a bit more about Severus Prince dying, but I have been seeing him frequently during the last couple of weeks. Parties, you know..." Hazel did not finish her sentence. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to bring the topic of her sleeping with Severus Prince with Jeremy Hill just yet. 

It was a freak accident that they have done so twice, but she was rather certain it was not leading anywhere. 

_ Keep telling yourself that,  _ a voice in her head taunted her.  _ You have a massive crush on the man. _

“Yes, of course,” Jeremy nodded. “I have seen the papers, admittedly. Especially concerning one event at the party. The altercation between you and Mister Ronald Weasley.”

“Yeah, it happened. Rita Skeeter’s story in  _ The Prophet  _ was surprisingly honest, though I imagine it doesn’t take much to make Ron look bad in this instance.”

“No, I don’t imagine it does. Did you have flashbacks when it happened?”

“Not really, no. I blasted him into the wall, but it was a conscious choice, not a reaction,” Hazel laughed. “I mean obviously it was a reaction, but I didn’t lose control over my magic at the time. I wanted to blast him through the wall, because he bloody deserved it.”

“I do not dispute that. I am glad you managed to retain control throughout the event.”

“Me too, actually. I didn’t really want to harm him, you know? Not seriously at least. I just wanted him to get the message that he cannot demand marriage out of me and he definitely cannot slap me,” she gritted her teeth as she remembered the stupid words that made her hurt so much in that moment. “I know I really shouldn’t have probably done that, but he just wasn’t getting the message from me just saying so. He still hasn’t.”

“Hasn’t he?” Jeremy raised his eyebrows surprised.

“Not really. He asked me to talk privately again at the Order party that Saturday, you know. He wasn’t violent anymore, but it was like he completely wasn’t hearing me. No matter what I say, he seems to think I am just playing hard to get or something. He wants to prove to me that he’s worthy.”

“And you are...”

“Completely uninterested in him as a romantic partner,” Hazel finished Jeremy’s sentence.

“May I ask why?”

Hazel shrugged.

“Ron has been my best mate for our entire time at Hogwarts, but I have never felt a pull, an attraction towards him. I know, I know everybody keeps telling me that some marriages in the Wizarding World are like that and Ron’s a pureblood, but I am not going to marry someone just because the society says I should. Besides he is not even my type.”

“I would not advise marrying just to appease the society,” Jeremy said. “I am aware that the pureblood’s heirs have certain responsibilities to their houses, but I cannot imagine Andromeda pushing you into an unwanted marriage.”

“No, she was actually really pissed at Ron. And said he wouldn’t be a good match for me anyways.”

“Good, Andy was always a reasonable woman. So, regarding your type,” Jeremy switched the topic.

Hazel laughed.

“I don’t think I have one. I mean you know it’s difficult to date anyone if everyone thinks you are some sort of demigod or hates you. Not to mention the nightmares, the PTSD, the anxiety. It’s rather difficult to let people in, you know?”

“I cannot say that I have ever been in quite the same situation as you, but I would expect you to have some trust issues after the war.”

“Polite way to say I have paranoia.”

“Which is very well understood, given what you have been through.”

Hazel shrugged. Jeremy didn’t mind shrugging at least.

“I hope you reach the stage where you will be able to trust someone enough to let them in and form healthy relationships with people outside of the immediate circle of your friends from Hogwarts. I know it may seem impossible right now. It is even not necessarily about romantic relationships, but also friendships. You haven’t formed any new ones in the last 2 years. Possibly even longer. You only stuck by the friends from Hogwarts. I would like to change that if possible. It is an important step in healing.”

“People don’t seem to get it, you know,” she stood up and started pacing around the office. “They see us, the people who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and they look at us like we aren’t even the same species. And the ones who do are usually assholes. Or at least I cannot imagine being friends with them. They are dismissive sometimes of things I care about. Like managing not to drive so many people in our society to the brink of madness in Azkaban. Or werewolves’ rights. One of my colleagues at the healing program, Jerry Masters, claimed his family was Halfblood since whatever century. And Neville and I were like  _ you sound like Draco Malfoy.  _ He did too. Like he wasn’t even getting the point of what this war was about. We didn’t fight so that now Muggleborns will rule over Purebloods. Andy is Pureblood, so was Sirius and Kingsley. They are good people. It feels like we just completely turned everything on its head, but we didn’t fix the actual problem, you know?”

“Yes, Hazel, I understand what you are saying - the oppressed become the oppressors and then the whole situation repeats.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “It was totally not the point for me. I am not going to discriminate now against the Purebloods. It’s complete bullshit.”

“I agree with you, but many people will feel the need for retribution. Like the Crawley case.”

“Do you think it is a revenge case?” Hazel stopped pacing and looked straight at her healer.

“I don’t know. But certainly I would explore that angle if I were to investigate it.”

“That’s pretty much what Severus said.”

“Severus?”

“Duke Severus Prince. We were both contacted about the case by the Ministry.”

“Ah I suppose that was unpleasant.” 

“I only saw the photos, but I think Severus was called to the crime scene itself,” Hazel admitted.

“Is that why the nightmares featuring him have been recurring with more intensity lately? Because you are both working on the same case?”

“No, it started before. I met him at the Anniversary Ball. Since then I had more nightmares about him. It was just after that row with Ron,” she said in a weak attempt to redirect his attention.

Jeremy just raised his eyebrows.

“Alright, fine. I might as well tell you all of it,” Haze flopped back on her chair. “I was distraught after what happened with Ron. I ran into Severus Prince who was hiding from the fireworks, which is actually a brilliant idea. He… I don’t know… I wouldn’t exactly call it comfort, but he explained things. Then things escalated a bit, and we sort of slept with each other.”

“Sort of?” Jeremy was clearly amused at her wording.

“Well, we had sex. Then we had sex again after the other party. The Order party. Apparently, both of us like to hide from the crowds.”

“So, why Severus Prince and not Ron Weasley?” Jeremy asked.

Hazel blushed.

“He’s a man, you know,” she said embarrassed. “And I trust him. A lot, you know. He saved my life a bunch of times. And almost died for me. Ron is a kid in many ways. He doesn’t get me a lot of times. Severus knows things about me that probably no one else does. He taught me Occlumency in school, you know. He was a bastard about it. Real asshole. I hated him so much at the time. But he did manage to teach me some. And since the war ended… it’s been different. He’s been different. And so have I.”

“Both of you have gone through a lot.”

“Yeah, and I know his childhood wasn’t great either, you know. And he was gentle with me. I think he knew I wasn’t experienced...” Hazel blushed furiously. “I mean, I’ve heard things, you know? Girls talk. Boys our age often have no clue what they are doing. Well, he’s not a boy.”

“You mentioned. So you trusted him enough to lower your guard, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, as I said. He’s been different since the war ended. More relaxed I guess. But also seems to be a bit lost like me. It’s difficult I guess to find peace after years and years of war. It’s easy to trust him. Because he has shown time and time again that he would not betray me, not ridicule me for my weakness. Although that did happen a lot in the past when he was my teacher, but not anymore. I had a nightmare that second night, and he… comforted me. Ron wouldn’t understand that.”

“I am not disparaging your choice,” Jeremy said. “Simply wondering. It’s good that you trust someone enough to be able to sleep next to them.”

“I was quite surprised actually that I did manage that.”

“That’s good.”

“But I think it is just… you know… a bit of comfort for two soldiers. I am not actually expecting it to go on or anything.”

“Why not?”

“We have history between us. A lot of it. Painful history. It’s not something you can just ignore I guess. And we sort of have been ignoring it. Not just now, pretty much since the end of the war. I apologized and he seems to have forgiven me, but there are still a lot of painful memories.”

“I can understand that. After all you did see him kill Albus Dumbledore, who was your mentor. That leaves scars, even if it was at Dumbledore’s own orders.”

“Yeah, I think it scarred him even more than me. Severus also saw Dumbledore as a mentor. Sometimes I hate the Headmaster for what he has done to us. Even though I know it was necessary.”

“He raised you like a lamb for slaughter. Resentment is normal. Are you able to look past it and forgive him?”

“I am not sure… Hogwarts is being reopened in the fall. I, of course, have to go. I promised Professor McGonagall. I hope it will be alright, and I think I wish to speak to Dumbledore’s portrait when I am there.”

“Hmm,” Jeremy looked thoughtful. “We shall speak on your return to Hogwarts more next time, ok?”

“I think that would be good. It’s still some time away, but I already feel a bit of dread when I think about it.”

Hazel wasn’t sure if it was a right move to tell Jeremy about Severus, but before she left his office for the day, she felt better at confiding in him.

“Thank you, Jeremy. I will see you at the party on Sunday.”

“See you then, Hazel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * song by U2  
> ** a heavy metal band  
> *** Black Sabbath song, go and listen  
> **** My estimates of the wizarding population are very high in comparison to what Internet says about Rowling’s idea. The reason for that is that I studied econometrics (generally math+statistics+economics) and there exists something called Minimum Viable Population - it is an ecological threshold indicating the smallest number of individuals required for population to survive. The conservative estimates of the MVP go into thousands (e.g. 5k for viable population with near-even sex distribution without social engineering or interventions). Considering that and the life spans of wizards (very long beyond child bearing ages for women, even if we assume some sort of longer period before witches hit menopausal age) the population of ~20k (that is estimated from Hogwarts’ students number) seems like waaaaay too small to sustain the wizarding world through the centuries. Essentially they would have died out if there was any sort of war, epidemic or catastrophe that would kill a significant percentage of the population. That is to say that the way of life, culture, tradition and society couldn’t have survived, the Muggleborns would still probably have been born, but there would be no Hogwarts. I am also assuming here that inbreeding is mainly a Pureblood problem - similarly to what it has been in aristocracy and various European monarchies in the past - they only marry worthy candidates [and yes, I know that I do not have a life, move on :D].


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with Chapter 6. I have chapters 7-10 in the works already. I got a new program for writing, which is pretty awesome (trial version for now, but I will probably end up investing, since I also write original fiction). Way better than Word or Google Docs, anyway.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Best,  
> L
> 
> PS. I am always happy to hear constructive criticism. Helps me grow and learn :D.

The Ministry was quiet and as Severus identified himself to the aurors, they led him to the Aurors' offices. 

It was quieter than Severus had ever seen the Ministry being. It was early Sunday morning after the majority of Wizarding World had a private party celebrating two years of freedom, but still he had never seen the hallways empty of people and hassle of daily activity. Of course, he tended to avoid the place as much as possible. Even now, two years after the war, and him being widely regarded as a hero, many aurors still hated his guts. And Severus didn’t particularly want to give them a target for their anger.

Invitation from Minister of Magic, who was also his… friend, with such an underlying tone of urgency to it… Well, Severus couldn’t just ignore it.

He entered the Auror office to see Kingsley and Gawain Robards talking quietly to each other. They both turned at the sound of him and a young auror who followed him entering.

“Severus!” Kingsley exclaimed. “Thank you for coming!”

Gawain Robards snorted disbelievingly, but Severus ignored him. Their relationship, if one could call it that, could only be described as mutual hatred. Robards was one of the aurors who had severely beaten Severus during his brief stint in Azkaban after the first war. Several times. To the point of puking blood. So no, Severus did not like the man. Absolute hatred was more akin to what his feelings for the man were.

“Kingsley. What’s going on?” he asked. There was no point in delaying.

“There has been a murder. A mass murder. As far as we can tell - multiple victims. As in more than five. Possibly more than ten.”

Severus kept his face carefully blank.

“Robert Crawley’s place. We don’t know the victims yet, but apparently at least his wife is dead. One survivor, as far as we know, as we had not entered the residence yet. But Crawley’s son - Matthew, five years old, ran out of the house and bumped into a neighbor - Morgan Morris - who reported it. Williamson is at the scene, waiting for us to enter.”

“And you figured I have done it?” Severus asked slowly. 

“Merlin, no, Severus,” Kingsley exclaimed. “Some of your old contacts on the other hand might be responsible,” he explained. “Mister Lincoln Morris took care of the boy, while Mrs. Morris and two of her great grandsons - Michael and James - entered the house to, what they described as, carnage. The witch was in shock. The grandsons were a bit more coherent, but both are Master Craftsmen. It’s a family trade, so they are not very familiar with death. Especially being Purebloods. Apparently, there are a lot of bodies and even more blood. We thought you might help us, if it is indeed some DEs on the run, you know. Of course, we don’t suspect you,” Robards glared at Severus, as if he didn’t share the Minister’s certainty and walked off through another door with short I will be right back.

“There are children dead, for sure,” said Kingsley gravely.

“Of course, there are,” Severus muttered. “I know both Michael and James Morris. They were at Hogwarts. Morris Craft, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s the company’s name. Yet you have to admit it sounds like Death Eaters’ MO. There are still some on the run that we haven’t been able to find.”

“You haven’t been looking very diligently,” countered Severus casually and Kingsley blanched at the accusation. “And that sort of assumption is dangerous when you haven’t even seen the crime scene.”

“We’ve been doing our best,” Severus raised his eyebrow sceptically. “There is a lot of mess to be cleaned up after Voldemort’s regime. Entire departments in disarray. We lost over thirty five percent of all the aurors, most of them with years of experience. And most of the Order members have not been willing to really help out with the effort. Most of them have never been aurors or worked for the ministry.

The “ _like you”_ went unsaid, but clearly understood.

“Yes, because my dream job after twenty years of spying is working in the place with highly trained wizards, most of whom would like nothing more than _Avada_ me in the back.”

“You are talking about Gawain,” Kingsley said slowly.

“Robards, yes, of course I'm talking about that petty, callous bastard. He beat me until I was puking blood and then he came back for more.”

“I did not know about that.”

“You were still doing your Defense Mastery at the time of the trials from what I remember, so you couldn’t have,” Severus paused. “However, I am not talking just about Robards. I have no doubt that Weasley would also gladly push me into the on-coming spell if he could get away with it,” at the very least he would, if he ever found out that Hazel chose Severus over him. “Not to mention pretty much most of the Auror Corps that have been demoted or who’s friends went to Azkaban. And the Death Eaters you have no doubt hiding in the ranks still.”

“We don’t have any Death Eaters in the ranks,” protested Kingsley.

“Are you willing to bet your life on that? Because I am not willing to bet mine. My apologies, but I believe I have earned the right to some selfishness after twenty years of spying.”

“I have never said you haven’t! All I am saying, it would be easier to have more people I can trust implicitly in this damned place.”

Severus grasped his rising rage and pushed it back down.

“And that would be me?” he laughed.

“Of course. I made a mistake of not trusting you once, old friend. I shall not repeat it.”

“Well, anyway, since I am already here, I might as well help you out. But don’t expect me to do more than help figure out some clues. Who’s on the case beyond Robards?”

“Lawrence probably will have to take personal interest. Apart from that, Robards, Williamson, Berrycloth, Weasley and Thomas.”

“Sweet. Two former Gryffindors I taught plus Robards. This will make life interesting. Weren’t they graduating next week?”

“Officially. They are finished with their classes, so we have already put them on rotation. We are seriously understaffed and under experienced. We need both and fast. Not just to avoid paying for overtime.”

Kingsley stared at him for a moment.

“Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?”

Severus looked down on himself as if he didn’t quite remember. He was, obviously. Sometimes, he really resented Kingsley. The guy was just too observant. Being a Slytherin and an ex-auror would make you that. Severus, though, was a spy. 

“You didn’t exactly give me a lot of time this morning,” he scowled at him.

A little bit of truth, a little misdirection, a fair share of emotional manipulation. Thankfully, the elves cleaned everything up during the night, but he did forget his outer robes. He left them in Hazel’s kitchen in a hurry. Oh, well, it was warm enough to go without them.

“No, I guess not,” Kingsley admitted. “Sorry for dragging you out of bed. I know sometimes sleep does not come easy to all of us,” he seemed to take Severus’ words at their value and he even sounded a bit apologetic.

As he well should have. An investigation into a gruesome murder of multiple people with bunch of aurors who hated him versus finishing breakfast in peace with Hazel Potter who apparently did not. Now, there was no contest really, what Severus would prefer to be doing. The girl did blush rather fetchingly. And Severus managed to cover most of his awkwardness with smugness and being a bit of a dick.

“Anything else about the case?” he distracted both Kingsley and himself.

“Not much. You were right before, we are currently operating under an assumption that it was a Death Eater attack. Seventeen victims, with two aurors, even if some of them were children, it’s not something one person can do on their own. It has to be a group. Large one too, to overpower so many. It’s not that easy to find so many willing to murder a bunch of random people.” 

Severus personally disagreed with Kingsley on this one. There were a whole lot of people after the war, who had soldier training and mindset. They may not have been a formal army, but there were a lot of resistance movements during the war. Partisans. Sometimes, once you had a taste of violence… He knew this from personal experience. He didn’t voice his objection though and Kingsley continued.

“Williamson, Thomas and Weasley have secured the scene, but other than that they did not enter. We only have a somewhat disjointed statement of a child, and the Morris family who barely glanced at the scene and ran out of there.”

Severus sighed.

“Perfect.”

“Perhaps we should get started then,” Lawrence entered the office with Robards and young auror, Severus knew to be Berrycloth, a former Ravenclaw, close on his heels. Lawrence didn’t at least seem to hate Severus so much. He was a straight arrow from what he knew of the man. If Severus was proclaimed innocent and a hero, then he was alright in his book at least. Berrycloth on the other hand sent a nod and a friendly smile with just a tiny bit of admiration his way. The boy was one of his better students. Severus had even given him a stellar review for the auror’s admission.

“Of course,” Kingsley said. “I have a portkey right here. Let us go.”

 _Portkey_.

Severus froze. That was not what he signed up for. His breathing quickened. Using portkey to go to an unknown destination with three aurors. In his head he could see Robards bringing him to the middle of nowhere. Aurors surrounding him, suffocating, laughter, blow to the chest, to the stomach. Spit on his face. 

“Severus?” Kingsley said questioningly, interrupting a destructive spiral down the memory lane.

Kingsley was there. They wouldn’t try anything in front of the Minister of Magic himself, would they? He Occluded and forced his breathing to relax. He couldn’t have a panic attack in front of them. Such weakness would no doubt be exploited. Furiously Occluding, Severus joined the man and grabbed the glove the Minister was holding.

“ _Octothrope_ ,” Kingsley said and Severus felt as if he was squeezed through a dark tube. Thankfully, it lasted only a few seconds before his feet crashed into the solid ground. He easily managed to remain upright and hide his rising panic.

The area they landed in was one he recognized vaguely. It was an upper middle class wizarding town south of Manchester. If one could call it a town. It was mostly wizarding housing with a small town square with several key shops like robes, apothecary, bakery. Severus had been here on a couple of occasions, while making rounds to meet the parents of first year Slytherins. It was upscale and many well off Pureblood (but not the really rich ones like the Malfoys) and Halfblood families had properties there. Hence, his vague familiarity.

It was a muggle-free area close by to a forest. Rather idyllic. Green gardens, a forest, a river, even some lake was close by from what he remembered. His rounds usually took him to upper middle class areas. Or to the mansions of extraordinarily rich. Hogwarts was by no means a cheap school, and apart from Muggleborns, who were let in for a reduced fee, it was rather elite. His mother for sure wouldn’t be able to afford it, if his grandfather had not paid for him.

Now, that he thought about it the Crawley name was also familiar to him. There was a Crawley or two in Hogwarts in his time as a student. If his memory served him correctly he was a Ravenclaw. A name starting with an M. 

On the other hand, the building was one he had not visited. There was definitely no Crawley in Hogwarts during his tenure. 

The house was a typical upper middle class. Three floors, brick walls, with a garden. By all accounts a successful family with a nice place to live in. Would it be a target for Death Eaters? Well, Severus guessed that anything would be considered a target for the more insane ones. However, this was a primarily wizarding area. Full of higher ranks Ministry employees, businessmen, healers, Masters of various fields. Mostly legacy. Not really one many Muggleborns considered it for their residence.

“Curious,” he said and Kingsley shot him a questioning look, but was deterred from asking him anything by Lance Williamson hurrying towards them.

“Minister, so glad that you are here,” he said. “We haven’t touched anything or entered, but the boys are getting impatient.”

“Let us go in,” Williamson handed them all magic resistant gloves and Severus pulled them on. They charmed their feet, in order not to disturb anything in the house. It was an annoying spell that required constant attention. He followed Williamson into the house. Thomas and Weasley stood in front of the door and nodded to them as they approached.

The entry hallway was typical of a wizarding house, if one considered that the charmed broom was sweeping the entryway. For a moment Severus was sure nothing was really amiss there, but then something caught his attention.

“That’s widely unusual,” he muttered.

“What is?” asked Lawrence.

“Look at the pictures. They are all destroyed,” Kingsley pointed out, noticing the same thing Severus had. “That is unusual.”

He was right. Both the pictures and the portraits were cut with something sharp, burned or simply scraped. 

“Why would anyone cut up the pictures?” wondered Robards out loud.

“Identification?” asked Lawrence.

“Portraits, sure,” answered Severus. “But pictures cannot talk, only move. Their magic is much less than the painted work. It wouldn’t give any clues. And Death Eaters use masks. It’s both to strike fear and to protect their identity.”

He reached out with his senses to one of the destroyed photos on the wall.

“It feels like rage… blind fury…”

“Not that odd,” said Robards. “Death Eaters aren’t known for being calm.”

“There you are wrong,” countered Severus. “Bellatrix for sure. But most of them were not raging while killing. Most of those with that sort of rage and fury were killed or captured at Hogwarts. If you cannot control yourself, you make mistakes that can lead to aurors identifying you. The Dark Lord didn’t care, neither the ones who escaped Azkaban, but most did. They would not wish to jeopardize their lives. They considered themselves freedom fighters, not murderers. There is a difference in behavior.”

“Maybe they are just pissed off your Lord was killed.”

It was an explanation, but Severus felt it was a lazy one.

“I don’t like this,” muttered Kingsley and walked forward. They were bloody feet of a child on the floor leading to the door and Severus guessed it must have been one survivor running from the house.

He stopped in front of the opened door to the left and his wand appeared in his hand.

“Dear Merlin,” he muttered. 

Severus joined him. The word carnage used by the Morris’ family members was disturbingly accurate. There were bodies all over the room. Blood, mixed with wine and spirits, spilled from the table. Broken glass on the floor. Right next to the door lay a teenage girl, her eyes opened staring into nothing, blood that seeped from a stomach wound polling around her, her face frozen in terror. 

_Charity Burbage screaming at him. Begging him from mercy. The Dark Lord’s laughter. Draco’s terrified face. Nagini sliding closer and closer…_

Severus moved his gaze to the couch, where three other bodies were. Adult women. One had the throat cut, splattering the entire table in bright red blood. Another had was hanging, her body almost cut to the pieces, an arm hanging on a couple stretches of muscles and skin. Further, a man, obviously blasted into the wall, his skull cracked, if Severus wasn’t mistaken. Opposite, in the armchair, another woman, body sprawled in an unnatural position.

_Lily’s body. Lifeless eyes. Hazel’s cries. Mummy! Mummy!_

He walked in. Saw another body behind the couch. Strangled man. A boy, multiple deep cuts. _Sectumsempra_ , his mind supplied. Bled out. No chance in hell. Too many of them. Too many.

_Draco laying on the floor. Bleeding out after his own spell was used against him._

Another room, another man. Wand on the floor. Not fast enough.

_Alastor Moody falling to his death from a broom. Just eerie silence and wind rushing through his ears._

Two more. Wands in hands, but too slow. He recognized one. Dankworth, another auror who beat him in Azkaban.

_“On your hands and knees, you Death Eater scum!” The pain in his chest. The copper taste of blood in his mouth._

He saw two more on the terrace through the window. Young ones. Somewhere in their twenties. Keaton and Wither, his mind supplied. The boy in front, the girl curled up against the railing. Both at Hogwarts, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Wither was smart. Excelled in Runes.

_Hazel’s body unmoving next to the Mirror of Erised. Too young, too young. Barely breathing._

“How many?” he heard Kingsley’s raspy voice.

“Seventeen. Ten in the living room. Two boys in the kitchen. One in the smaller living room. Two in the study. Two outside.”

“That one was Julian Dankworth - an auror,” Severus heard his own voice out loud.

“Julian?!” he heard horrified gasp from Gawain Robards.

“I think so. And there is Wither and Keaton on the terrace. Both graduated Hogwarts a couple years back.”

“Yes, it’s Julian,” Lawrence confirmed and Severus saw him kneeling next to the bodies in the study. “And this one,” he pointed at the man next to Severus, “is Marcus Lowely.”

“This is senseless!” exclaimed Berrycloth. “It’s just a massacre!”

Severus nodded.

“They, whoever they are, must have gotten in fast. Couple of minutes tops. Different styles, different methods of murder. No pauses for anything. Just senseless killing.”

“Seems like Death Eaters alright,” he heard Ronald Weasley sneer behind him.

He turned.

“Oh, really? And why would they do that?” he snarled at the stupid boy.

“That’s what they do, isn’t it? Murdering children.”

“This,” Severus looked around, “does not seem like Death Eaters’ MO, you halfwit. Unless they have turned completely mindless after the death of the Dark Lord. Why do this? What would be the point?”

“I, for once, agree with Weasley,” said Robards. “We have the precedent - Longbottoms. Another desperate, senseless revenge.”

“There was a motive in the torture of the Longbottoms,” Severus sneered. “Bellatrix, for all her murderous rage and delusions, is predictable. Was predictable. There was a method to her madness. She wanted information on where the Dark Lord and Hazel were. Longbottoms were named in the Potters’ wills. Dumbledore, of course, had overrode them, but Bellatrix did not know that.”

“Who let you call her by her name?!” snarled Weasley.

“She did so herself, if you must know,” Severus answered. While he presented perfect calmness to them, inside him raged a storm of buried emotions and fears. “And I don’t think it’s the problem here, boy.”

“I am not a boy,” he moved to rush him, but Kingsley stopped him. “Weasley, Thomas, go to the Ministry. Bring the Healers in. They have their work cut out for them. Call in Marcel Dovers. And only him. I want him personally on the case.”

Thomas pulled the reluctant Weasley out of the living room, towards the exit and Kingsley moved to stand next to Severus.

“I think the motive of revenge does make sense. Julian and Marcus were Senior Aurors, and participated in teams that took down the Death Eaters.”

“Perhaps,” allowed Severus. “But then why attack Crawley’s house? Why not go directly to theirs?”

“More protection in their house? Maybe they found out about the party and decided it was best done when they were a bit drunk, counting on the element of surprise,” offered Lawrence. There were at least a couple of half empty or empty wine and spirits bottles in the room, so that might have made some sense.

“This seems too fast for some reason,” muttered Severus. The whole crime scene seemed… off, for lack of a better word. Severus had been to many rides with the Dark Lord and fellow Death Eaters, especially at the beginning of his involvement in them. However, even years later, he used to be on-site for emergency medical care. This did not scream Death Eaters to him. “Death Eaters like to tell their victims why they are killing them. They like to savor the victory. This… it couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes. Look,” he moved towards the door. “It must have been a rather large group, because I cannot believe one person managed to do all this in a short span of time it must have been done. Even the Dark Lord would take more time. Enough time for people outside of this one room to have armed themselves and put up a fight or hide.”

He stood for a second in the door.

“Ok, so I go through the hallway with silencer on my shoes, then I walk in here. I immediately target this girl,” he pointed to the first body. “It will take at least a couple of seconds for the others to catch on, right? Probably more, since there are no trained warriors in this room.” He looked around to see the men nodding. “My accomplice behind me has already taken care of this guy,” he pointed to a stubby man to the left. “He is the only immediate threat, since he is standing with his eyes turned towards the door, so I turn to the people on the couch. By this point, they would have started screaming, right? Taking out their wands. But none of them have any, so I must have rushed through the room, letting others take care of them, and I myself went here,” he pointed at the smaller living room. “This guy had enough time to pull out the wand, so I wasn’t fast enough. He was an auror too, although probably drunk. Two more in the study. Also must have rushed them. Fast strikes, no time for response. Otherwise, they would have all been here, in this room, wouldn’t they?”

Kingsley nodded gravely.

“It makes sense. Very well coordinated. Fast.”

“Yes, coordinated, like Death Eaters,” Robards scowled at him.

“Or aurors. Or soldiers,” responded Severus.

“You dare to claim that this was done by aurors!” Robards’ face grew red from fury.

“I am not claiming anything,” Severus answered quickly. “I am just saying. There are a lot of people after the war capable of being so well organized. Not just Death Eaters. Although, if you are right and this was done as revenge, it could have been them,” he admitted.

“We’ll see,” Robards calmed down a bit.

Severus still had his doubts. This wasn’t what Death Eaters did. Not usually. They overpowered the enemy first, but they usually killed using Avada Kedavra. And they let the victims know that they were going to die.

This wasn’t done with any Unforgivables. And it seemed more like a soldier squadron than a bunch of revolutionary warriors. It was almost too well coordinated. Death Eaters were good, but this wasn’t their style of fighting.

On the other hand, some Death Eaters had auror or hit wizard training. So, still a possibility. But the target seemed off too. Purebloods and Halfbloods. Not Muggleborns or Blood Traitors.

“Gawain, please take care of the scene,” Kingsley said. “Don’t bring anyone apart from Healer Dovers. Lawrence, Severus and I will go talk to the Morris’ family.”

Severus didn’t argue. He was grateful to leave the place.

***

They didn’t get much out of Morgan Morris or their grandsons, apart from the promise not to spread the word around.

Apparently, Morgan Morris was out on her morning walk, when she saw Matthew Crawley, a five year old survivor running barefooted, covered in blood. She managed to grab the boy and bring him to her house. The boy was in shock, crying and mumbling about his Mummy not waking up.

At this point in the story, Severus had another uncomfortable flashback to That Night, as he dabbed October 31st 1981.

Afterward, she called her great grandsons in and they all walked to the Crawley’s house. They walked in, careful not to disturb the blood on the floor. When they saw the living room, they basically ran from the house and fire called the Auror Offices. They were the first ones to mention Death Eaters’ involvement.

The Auror on shift, Berrycloth, called Robards and Lawrence, who called Kingsley, who sent a Patronus to Severus.

Lincoln Morgan and Morgan Morris took care of the boy. The old witch used to be a practicing healer for many years and knew exactly what to do. One of their great grandsons removed his clothes with magic, so as not to touch the evidence, and gave him some of his own son. They bundled the boy in blankets and fed him breakfast with a side of a Calming Draught. The boy sat there clutching a teddy bear, his head hanging low.

“You are better with kids than me, Sir,” Lawrence prompted Kingsley to take the interview.

Kingsley sighed.

Severus himself thought they should have brought someone more experienced with kids than two bachelors. Lawrence, he thought, was married, but he couldn’t remember if he had any kids.

Kingsley walked into the room the boy was sitting in alone, Severus and Lawrence, hanging back enough to see and hear, but with the help of a few charms unnoticeable for the boy.

The Minister knelt next to the boy.

“Hey, Matthew. I am Kingsley,” he said. The boy turned to him, but didn’t look up from the teddy bear.

“Hi,” he muttered lowly. “Is my mummy with you?”

“I’m sorry, Mathew, but she isn’t. Your mummy had gone to another place, where she is happy and taken care of,” that was pretty weak, if you asked Severus.

“She’s dead, isn’t she? She is not waking up.”

“I am afraid so,” Kingsley agreed.

The boy looked away.

“Matthew, I would like to tell me about yesterday. Did you have a party?”

“My mummy and father did. My cousins came.”

“Did you like your cousins?”

The boy shook his head.

“Ah, are they mean to you?”

“Yes,” the boy was crying silently, tears streaming on his cheeks.

“Did you hide from them?”

That would explain why the boy survived.

“Mhmh,” the boy nodded. “Attic. I fell asleep.”

“Ah. And did you hear anything unusual?”

The boy shook his head. 

Kingsley obviously figured out he wouldn’t get anything out of the boy, because he stood up.

“May they find rest in the sweet embrace of Death,” he muttered lowly. “I am sorry, Matthew.”

He walked back towards Severus and Lawrence.

“Well, that didn’t give us a lot,” sighed the auror.

“The boy was lucky,” Kingsley said. “He escaped almost certain death and didn’t witness anything.”

“Apart from his mother’s torn apart body. It’s not Luck that was on the boy’s side that night. It’s the opposite,” answered Severus. 

***

They returned to the Crawley’s residence a couple hours later, with little to show for their excursion to the Morris’ house. Robards and Berrycloth joined them as they arrived and Lawrence had summarized what they had learned.

“So, the murders didn’t actually search the house,” Berrycloth wondered. “At least not thoroughly. They went it, killed everyone in sight and just left… That’s weird.”

“Maybe they were drunk,” offered Severus. “There were a lot of people having private parties last night. People were celebrating.”

“Or maybe,” interrupted Robards harshly. “They were simply disposing of inconvenient witnesses.”

“Execution?” mused Lawrence. “One that went a bit too far?”

“I think you are too fixated on Death Eaters did it. And you are ignoring anyone else who could have done it,” argued Severus.

“And I think you’d rather have anyone, but Death Eaters to be the guilty party.”

“I would not. I simply do not want to jump to conclusions. Just because you, aurors, are sitting on your asses when it comes to getting the Death Eaters off the streets, that does not mean I am going to blame them for every single crime in the next ten years.”

“I called Severus to consult on the case,” Kingsley stopped whatever Robards’ response would have been. “And on this, he is right. We shouldn’t immediately conclude that this was Death Eaters’ doing.”

“So, you think it wasn’t, Sir?” inquired Berrycloth.

“No, I do think it is a very real possibility. After all, we haven’t caught all of them yet. Just keep an open mind, boys,” he said. “Joseph, Gawain, come with me. I want to talk to you and Lance.”

Berrycloth hung back, as the three other men left.

“So, Professor, you don’t think it was the Death Eaters, do you?” he asked Severus directly.

“I don’t know, Mordecai,” Severus admitted. “And you don’t have to call me Professor anymore. I haven’t been that since the war ended.”

“I know,” the young man smiled cheerfully despite the gore around them. “I’ve read your books. _The Subversive Defensive Techniques_ was awesome. Lawrence wants to include it in mandatory reading and practice for the Auror Academy,” he whispered to him conspiratorially. 

“Thank you,” Severus muttered in response. That was news to him. Pleasant, too. He could rub the knowledge into Robards’ face.

“So why do you feel that it was not done by the Death Eaters? Is it only the speed, the coordination? The lack of questioning or torture?”

“There is that,” admitted Severus. “It’s almost too well done, if you get my meaning. But there is also one more thing.”

“What is it?” the auror asked, genuinely curious.

“The motive. Why? Death Eaters did engage in random acts of violence, but only against Muggles or Muggleborns. I don’t think I have ever seen such an attack against primarily Pureblood or Halfblood neighborhood. Most of the victims are in fact people you would expect to be swayed by the Dark Lord rather than Albus Dumbledore. Upper middle class, old families. Maybe not as old as the Malfoys, but still.”

Berrycloth nodded slowly.

“Hmmm… That makes a lot of sense,” he admitted. “Let’s go see Healer Dovers. He came with Weasley and Thomas. He might have some more information, but apparently, he agrees with you a lot on the way the crime was done.”

Marcel Dovers had also attended Hogwarts at the same time Severus was there, although he was about five years younger than him. He was a stocky, rather muscular man, Muggleborn, and a former Ravenclaw, which made him much easier for Severus to deal with.

“Master Prince, I have heard you were in on the case,” he greeted him briskly. 

“Healer Dovers, pleasure to see you again,” he said. Healer Dovers had been one of the people who testified regarding Severus’ injuries during the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Good to see those jar heads called in someone competent,” Dovers said.

Severus hummed in response noncommittally.

“So, do you have any idea what happened yet?” asked Berrycloth eagerly.

“Some, nothing definite yet though,” admitted Dovers. “I will have to perform real autopsies in my lab, but I can say for the moment that most of the victims didn’t even see it coming. They were killed off very quickly. By the time they noticed something was amiss, they were already bleeding out or outright dead on the floor. This boy,” he pointed to the body laying in a pool of blood, “got hit by your creation, I think. _Sectumsepra_ , was it? Nasty one, Master Prince, but damn, if it’s not effective. Bled out in minutes. This one,” he pointed to the strangled one, “got hit most likely by a Choking Spell. Didn’t even get a chance to pull out his wand. The Chocking Spell had so much force and rage behind him that it seems to have strangled him to death, or it was some other variation. I will have to check that once I have the bodies in the morgue.”

“Hmmm…” Severus muttered.

“The other ones didn’t have much more luck than these poor bastards. All killed within minutes. Lots of force, possibly lots of rage and pent-up frustration, I’d say,” Dovers continued. “But, as I said, this is just my best guess at this point. I will have to verify it.”

“What about Keaton and Withers?” asked Berrycloth.

“Ah, these two. Seems that they had a bit more time to prepare than the others, being the furthest from the entrance,” Dovers lead them to the terrace. “Wither seems to have tried fighting the assailants off. A couple of cuts, here and here, suggests that,” he pointed to the gashes on the body. “We have found his wand and cast _Priori Incantatem_. There was a shield spell and one or two offensive ones - _Bombarda_ and a cutting hex. But it seems he went down fast too. And that one, Julia Keaton,” he pointed to a girl roughly Hazel’s age. 

“What happened to her.”

“Knife to the heart.”

“What?” Severus looked up at him in surprise.

“Aye, she was stabbed. With a knife. Not a spell. A couple times too. Same with the two boys in the kitchen, also stabbed.”

Severus blanched. Stabbed? Like Muggles.

“As in no magic was used on them?” Berrycloth asked.

“Not that I have found as of yet. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t. I will have to scan them thoroughly.”

“Interesting,” muttered Severus.

“It is, Master Prince. Unusual at the very least,” Dovers admitted. “Anyway, gentlemen, I’ll leave you to it. I have to request some additional bodies to carry these poor souls back to the Ministry. And I have a feeling the Minister will want to keep this under wraps.”

“Undoubtedly,” agreed Severus.

Berrycloth waited until Dovers was back inside the house.

“So, do Death Eaters usually stab people to death?”

“No. We considered ourselves above crude, primitive methods such as this.”

“Huh.”

Severus looked at the young auror.

“Why are you here with me?”

“Because, Sir, I think you are the smartest of the lot, here,” he gave him a toothy grin. “And I think it is wise to get your input. It might help me later.”

“Very Slytherin of you, Mordecai.”

The grin widened.

“Perhaps, a tiny little bit. If I want to make full Auror, I think, your experience is rather valuable. A Ravenclaw seeks the knowledge from those more skilled too.”

Severus sighed.

“I don’t think it will endear you to your superiors.”

“Ah, you mean Robards. He really does seem to hate you a lot,” admitted Berrycloth. “No risk, no gain,” he shrugged.

“And now, you ruined it by sounding like a damn lion,” Severus sneered.

“I’ll take it, if it helps me with finding who did this. Death Eaters or not.”

Severus nodded to him.

“Good way of thinking.”

“I should hope so. You taught it to me.”

Severus raised his eyebrows sceptically.

“Now, stop sucking up to me and do your job, Berrycloth. Whoever they were, they need catching.”

“Aye, aye, Sir!” The young auror saluted him and disappeared into the house.

It was good to know that at least one auror wasn’t out for his blood, Severus supposed.

Severus leaned against the terrace fence. The property boarded the forest, like many in the area and there were stretches of land between the houses, large enough that people wouldn’t have been able to discern between the noise of a party and a remorseless attack and murder.

It was rather well done for a murder of seventeen people. There had been no witnesses, although it seemed to be more luck than anything.

Unless they would kill the five year old too.

Considering they (whoever _they_ were) had killed two eleven year olds and mutilated a thirteen year old with _Sectumsempra_ , Severus figured they probably would have. Was it luck or was it forethought?

“What are you thinking, Severus?” Kingsely joined him at the terrace.

“I am thinking, either whoever did it had an enormous amount of luck or they had a lot of preparation. You don’t execute something like this easily. Training that the perpetrators obviously had is one thing, but they didn’t even search the house very thoroughly.”

“I know,” muttered Kingsley. “Not that a traumatized five year old would be much help, even if he did see something. We will send a proper party for him and interview him with a Mind Healer present, but still.”

“There is something I don’t like about this whole thing,” said Severus.

“There is a lot of things I don’t like about it,” countered Kingsley.

“You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“I do,” the Minister sighed.

“And I do not think that having a bunch of immature morons like Weasley or Thomas involved. You should cut them loose from this case, Kingsley.”

“You know that I cannot do that. Thomas was near the top of his class and Weasley wasn’t far behind.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust either of them.”

“If the Ministry handed out jobs based on who you trust, Severus, there wouldn’t be a single employee left,” Kingsley chuckled.

“I wouldn’t trust them with my life or my secrets, that’s correct. But I also don’t trust them to do their jobs without bias. They are petty, jealous idiots, and I wouldn’t put it past Weasley to shoot me in the back.”

“I know you and Ronald have a long, contentious history,” Kingsley started carefully. “But he did help with the war effort quite significantly and proved to be a better student than I thought he would during the auror training.”

“Sure, that doesn’t mean he is capable of doing the job.”

“He passed the test the Mind Healers subjected them too.”

“I could have passed those tests too, and yet I doubt Jeremy Hill would sign off on me joining the Corps. They are not that rigorous. You can cheat them quite easily.”

“Fair point. And we do not test for immaturity and jealousy anyway.”

They were quiet for a while.

“I would like to ask you, Severus, to help out with the case. I am not going to ask you to participate in anything apart from some reading and sharing your opinion. However, I do believe we could use your perspective. I might disagree with you on this one, but I do concur that we should not jump to conclusions too fast.”

“As long as I don’t have to speak to idiots, I will do it.”

“I will assign Mordecai to you. He’s a good guy. Smart, dedicated. And he admires you, which is always a plus. At least he will stand that harsh tongue of yours. And Madam Fenwick and I will personally oversee the case, seeing its importance.”

“That should be agreeable. Just keep Robards away from me.”

Kingsley only sighed again.

***

Three days later, Severus was buried in paperwork in the Ministry. Paperwork that according to him was terribly sub par. It would get a Troll, if he was the one doing the grading. It was a gigantic mess. Not only was the information missing, but some of it was completely incorrect.

Instead of trying to solve the case, he was basically writing comments on his former associates criminal profiles. 

_Mulcilber Jr. did not have a hand in the killing of Emmeline Vance. Rookwood, Dolohov and the Carrow twins killed her_.

Or

_Walden Macnair killed Broderick Bode using Devil’s Snare, sneaked into his room as a plant._

He was very tempted to write “You half witted moron, did you even try to corroborate this story with anyone?” in addition to his comments, but his sarcasm would probably not be appreciated by Robards or Lawrence.

Although at least the latter seemed grateful for the corrections in the files. He even went as far as to personally thank Severus for his assistance. That made Severus extremely suspicious of the man, and if he didn’t know that Lawrence was in fact a Muggleborn and Undesirable No. 17 during the war, he would have suspected even him of being a Death Eater.

 _A bit too paranoid, aren’t we?_ muttered a voice in his head.

He was buried in the file on Corban Yaxley, when the door opened and Hazel Potter-Black waltzed in. 

Severus almost jumped out of his seat, before remembering that they weren’t alone in the office. The files disappeared from the table and from his hands, hidden so that no unauthorized person would ever see them, which just added to his skittishness. 

“Lady Potter-Black,” he said instead, bowing lightly. That was good. Pureblood manners demanded for a man to stand when a woman walked into the room. Especially a titled one.

“Duke Price, Madam Fenwick, gentlemen, that is some gathering,” she greeted them. “Has the Dark Lord returned again from beyond the grave?” 

And Severus thought he was going to have a heart attack. The girl was simply impossible.

“Don’t even joke like that, Hazel,” he growled. Bloody woman.

“A meeting of The Minister, Heads of DMLE and Auror Corps, currently most senior Auror on staff, a spy and me. I have seen less conspicuous revolutionary assemblies.”

“Hilarious,” he said. Although, it sort of was. He had to suppress a chuckle that was threatening to escape. He had never before seen the black, cynical humor in the girl. And now probably wasn’t the time to appreciate it anyway.

“I thought so too!” she beamed at him. She beamed at HIM.

 _Perhaps, we should just give up when it comes to little weasel, shall we?_ asked his annoying voice that sounded a lot like Minerva.

Instead, Severus flicked his wand and the files reappeared. He observed as she walked towards the board, taking in the pictures of the massacre.

“ _S_ _unday, bloody Sunday*_ ,” she breathed out and he almost choked on spit, his eyes boggling. 

“Seriously?!” he exclaimed. He might have as well asked “Are you fucking out of your mind, Potter?”.

“Huh?” Kingsley. The blissfulness of ignorance.

“It’s nothing. I just sometimes think that Potter has been hit on the head one time too many during the war. There are a couple of vital parts missing in there.”

Apparently, he lost all the capabilities of making Hazel Potter angry, because she grinned at him again.

“Sometimes I think I haven’t been, but then it must have happened during my childhood, since I have been like that since I discovered _Black Sabbath**_ during the summer after my second year.”

“Slytherin save me,” not that he would. There was no salvation.

“Oh, come on, I take particular enjoyment from _War Pigs***_.”

_Gen'rals gathered in their masses,_

_Just like witches at black masses_

_Evil minds that plot destruction,_

_Sorcerer of death's construction_

_In the fields the bodies burning,_

_As the war machine keeps turning_

_Death and hatred to mankind,_

_Poisoning their brainwashed minds_

_Oh Lord yeah****_

He bloody heard it in his damned head! She was completely and utterly mad. And he was apparently right there with her.

But then Severus looked at the woman. Really looked. Beyond her surface grin and lighthearted comments. Hazel Potter studiously avoided looking at the pictures, turning her attention to him instead. The grin did not reach her eyes, who were… anything but amused. So, it wasn’t an indifference in the face of death. Oh, no. It was a coping mechanism, he realized. That he could understand very well.

He rolled his eyes. And the others, of course, had absolutely no idea what they had been just talking about. And then, they were wondering why the wizards did not comprehend a fraction of the Muggle World. Utter ignorance and casual dismissal of everything and anything Muggle.

“It’s a muggle song,” Hazel explained.

That was obviously the wrong move. Fenwick pretty much blew up at Potter. And him, just a bit. He was confident that he was collateral damage and most of the anger was directed at the ridiculous girl and her black humor based coping mechanisms.

“You are talking about songs right now! People died, as you can see!” she pointed towards the board like she wanted to stab it. “We have seventeen victims and you two are joking around! This is not a laughing matter!”

“Madam Fenwick, I empathize. It is a _terrible tragedy_ ,” even now she wasn’t looking at the pictures, rather pointing her gaze towards the ceiling. Severus wondered if it caused her similar flashbacks to his own. “And a _disgusting crime_.” Fenwick glared at her. “I have lost my parents before you could have remembered them. My godfather died a fugitive, despite being innocent almost 5 years ago, in battle, trying to protect me. The only other father figure I have ever had, Remus Lupin, died in the Battle of Hogwarts with his wife, leaving a newborn child behind, my godson. Edward is even younger than I had been when my parents died. I had buried countless friends and acquaintances. Now, working in Saint Mungo I see death on a daily basis. You may not enjoy my coping mechanism, you may even find them disturbing. But don’t judge me. There is only so much a person can take before developing them or cracking up... Or both.”

Severus voted both, but it apparently satisfied Fenwick. And if he was honest with himself, he, out of all of them, was probably the one who understood it the most. Both Hazel and he had pretty much lost everything in that damned war. You cannot walk through fire, be beaten down, have everyone you love taken away, and walk through to the other side unscathed. 

“I am tired, Kingsley. I have been working the entire day and my exams are coming up. I’d appreciate it if you could let me know what you need from me.” The woman didn’t seem like she yearned to be there. Quite the opposite. She opened a couple of files, frowning. 

They were absolutely awful. He agreed on that. The Ministry was a mess, even two years after the war, but the lack of care and incompetence that went it making those files was mind boggling really. They were atrocious. 

“We were hoping, Lady Potter,” Robards answered her. “That you could tell us which Death Eater could have done it,” he waved towards the board. “As you can see the situation is quite serious. When the media finds out, we are going to have a massive panic on par with the attack on Longbottoms in 1982. I am sure you understand the possible repercussions of such an event. It’s about protecting the communities from lashing out and vigilante justice.”

Robards talked to Potter like she was leagues ahead of him. With barely hidden admiration and almost worship-like deference. The woman didn’t seem to notice, but Severus did.

“The murders were committed on Sunday. We suspect seven to ten attackers, but it could have very well be a few less or a few more. The crime was a gigantic mess. We had difficulty specifying with so many dead, and such a gruesome method of killing. The Crawley family, this guy is Robert Crawley,” he pointed at the picture on the board. “They were having a party, we assume celebrating the end of the war anniversary. Their attackers collapsed their wards using brute force and murdered everyone inside, apart from one five year old boy. He couldn't tell us much. He was hiding from his cousins when the attack happened. This sort of organized attack is definitely Death Eaters’ MO. They even tried to disguise it as another werewolf attack, but it was clumsily done. Almost immediately we knew that it was a group of wizards, who have done that.”

Severus still disagreed with that assessment, but who was he to argue with the Minister and a bunch of experienced aurors?

Hazel nodded and turned to the board.

“Well, I sincerely doubt that they were celebrating the end of the war. Rather commiserating their defeat, because your Crawley guy was definitely a Death Eater. A marked one, not just a supporter.”

A Death Eater?! Now, that made much more sense. A revenge killing? Certainly possible. The Ministry was largely ineffective against lower ranks of the Death Eaters. They managed to catch most of the Inner Circle, but the rest were still roaming free.

Not to mention he had finally someone with sense and, more importantly, information. Maybe now, that the _goddess_ herself spoke they would listen to him more. The other blind morons gasped in reaction to the revelation.

“I am sorry, how can you possibly know that?” Lawrence asked.

“I’ve met a lot of Death Eaters over the years,” a lie if Severus ever heard one. Hazel Potter would never be able to lie to him. It likely came from her connection to the Dark Lord. “I think this one,” she pointed at a picture of Marcus Lowely, “was also one. I am not entirely sure about him, though.”

“That’s impossible. There hasn’t been a single indication that any of these people are in any way connected to the Death Eaters or even Snatchers,” Robards objected. Idiot. He wouldn’t see a Death Eater connection if it bit him in the ass.

“Well, with how many marked Death Eaters have been, you are bound to miss one or two guys, right?”

“We have that handled,” Lawrence was much more reasonable. Also wrong, but Severus had no intention of making another enemy among the aurors by pointing out just how completely off mark he was. “Most of the marked ones are either dead or imprisoned. It's only a matter of time before we catch up to the rest.”

“Most of them? That’s impressive. I should start reading the Prophet again, then. If the Ministry had so many successes lately. To dismantle that sort of organization couldn’t have been easy. I am guessing you are going to have to expand the Azkaban guards, then?”

 _Ah, still naive despite it all_ , the voice inside Severus’ head cooed as if Hazel Potter was a little child.

“Expand the guards? Why would we do that?”

It was all such a waste of Severus’ time. It almost seemed like he was trying to fill a cauldron with a strainer.

“Well, unless you killed most of the, of course, that number of guards would be insufficient for the influx of new prisoners, surely,” Hazel felt confused.

_Wrong again, Miss Potter. A Troll for sheer naivety and innocence._

“Wait a moment,” Severus interrupted. He wasn’t about to suffer through the rest of this conversation. “How many people do you estimate to have been marked Death Eaters? Not supporters or anything, just the marked ones?”

“Well, our best estimate is around fifty to a hundred, we now have thirty two in custody in Azkaban plus we know for sure the deceased number to be...”

Severus didn’t shout as a rule. He had enough of his father shouting in his life to resort to raising his voice. Usually, he didn’t have to. He scared people just enough that they would never dare to interrupt him.

“Fifty to a hundred?! I have personally delivered to you over 350 names of people I suspected to be Death Eaters,” he pointed a finger at Kingsley. “How exactly do you think fifty guys have kept the entire Great Britain from getting any sleep for years?”

“Well, Severus...”

“Well, what? What’s the current population of Wizarding Britain? Three and a half, four million?“

“3.74,” answered simply Alice Fenwick.

“And you think 50 guys had been shaking the entire country for three decades?” growled Severus. “You have to be joking. Have you even started working out the Death Eaters’ organizational structure? You bloody have Lucius in your custody and willing to cooperate with you. And you haven’t used him at all, have you?”

“These men,” Robards indicated the board, “are beyond reproach! Two of them were aurors. I don’t think that getting a convicted Death Eater casting dispersion on their character is any way to go about this! They were stellar members of the Wizarding Community!”

_Imbecile._

“So was Lucius,” Severus pointed out. “Until you caught him red-handed running around in a mask, trying to kill teenagers. Not to mention it was the second time around. The first time the Ministry was happy to take his gold and swallow his lies.”

“Oh right, because he isn’t your best friend,” growled Robards. “You even testified for him. A perjury if I ever heard one!”

“Oh, was it? Maybe you can prove it then!” Severus smirked. “An auror who pissed his pants the moment the Dark Lord's specter had appeared and bowed to lowly Death Eaters! The healers certified that memory loss can follow a near-death experience, if I remember correctly.”

“Shut up! You blasted Death Eater!”

“Oh, am I now? A Death Eater? Twenty years I spied so that the cowards like you could sleep like babies in their beds. Twenty years of my life, so that you didn’t have to cower before the madman.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have joined him in the first place,” retorted Robards.

“I have paid for my mistakes dearly, have you paid for yours? Bumped down from Head of Auror Corps to Senior Auror? Do you sleep at all with the atrocities that happened on your watch?” taunted Severus. 

He was not going to take it. There was nothing Robards could do to him anymore. He didn’t have a backing to strip him down, humiliate him and beat him. He was not going to take that asshole’s abuse. He paid for what he did. More than he ever imagined he would.

Hazel Potter stepped in, before it came to the blows.

“Enough! Both of you, for Merlin’s sake! Senior Auror Robards, if it wasn’t for Severus, we would all be dead or on our knees swearing allegiance to a despicable monster. Severus,” she was visibly annoyed with him. “You are not going to convince anyone of the seriousness of the issue by baiting them into an argument. Which you should know, since it somehow never worked with me.”

Probably right, but he wouldn’t want to be Robards’ anything if they paid him. Small, jealous, petty worm. Nevertheless, he shut up. No point in making the Girl Who Conquered angry with him in front of a bunch of aurors.

_If you ever want to go near her again, that is._

He wasn’t planning on it anyway, he thought, squashing the annoying voice.

“Hazel is right,” Kingsley took over. “I will assign a special task force to investigate all the names on your list, Severus. I promise you that. And we are going to use Lucius Malfoy if necessary. Or any other Death Eater who might wish to cooperate. The guilty of the horrendous crimes committed in Lord Voldemort’s name should be found and prosecuted to the full extent of the law. I am sure you agree, Alice, don’t you?”

“I do. I was not aware of the list, Joseph,” a cold, measured look landed on the Auror Corps’ Head. 

Alice Fenwick was someone Severus could appreciate as a Head of the DMLE. She was not as effective as Madam Bones yet, but he had no doubt that she would become better as the time went on. Losing her son in battle hit her hard, but did not skew her morals. If she managed to get the aurors moving with her steely resolve, her wishes would likely prevail.

“To be honest, ma’am, we believed Duke Prince to be wrong,” he admitted with a grimace. “He estimated the size of the organization for anything between three to ten thousands. It seemed impossible. In the early eighties we barely caught or killed forty or fifty Death Eaters. Such a number would be staggering.”

Severus always knew most people were completely useless to have around. They were predominantly incompetent, generalized people excessively. As their heads were unable to process a large amount of information (and they were too lazy to rectify that fact), they formed biases and labeled everyone and everything accordingly. That led to an utter lack of preparation of such individuals when faced with a situation contrary to their pre-formed suppositions.

Severus could deal with a lot. He could work with incompetence. One could correct that through hard work and learning. He could even deal with preconceived notions based on flimsy evidence by presenting facts that proved the opposite, if a given person was open-minded enough. He could deal with irresponsibility, like having a long list of Death Eaters and not doing anything about it. He could even take care of laziness by imposing strict rules and guidance.

However, if the person was incompetent, narrow-minded, irresponsible and lazy like all the aurors seemed to be…

Well, he was a spy, not a miracle worker.

“Then you have seriously miscalculated,” said Hazel sitting down and flipping through the files. “I don’t have as much information as Severus, but I do know that a hundred Death Eaters is a gross underestimation. Thousands sounds much more likely.”

_Ah, youth. The wonderful time when one believes that people can actually get off their asses and do some work. To be that gullible again. That would have been when he was roughly around three, wouldn’t it?_

“Do you have any information whatsoever on those men, Severus?” asked Kingsley pointing towards the pictures on the board.

“Not particularly. I have not met them or at least I have not known them to be Death Eaters. But there were many I did not know. That was the intention. The Dark Lord knew them all, I only those I worked with or were friends with. Neither of those men were old enough to join in the late seventies. They must have joined this time around, and I am less familiar with those who did not attend Hogwarts.”

“Some help you are,” muttered Robards and Severus glared at him before continuing.

Pointless exercise in explaining the same thing over and over again. Didn’t he describe the organization to the entire Wizengamot during his trial? And to aurors before and after that?

Well, in for a penny...

“The Death Eaters’ organization was typical of traditional terrorist organizations or a spy network. It operated in cells. People weren’t meant to know each other beyond one’s immediate circle of partners in crime. I knew the most recent Inner Circle - Lucius, the Lestranges, Regulus Black, before he turned traitor, Avery, Goyle, Crabbe. The people I joined with. The ones who went on to become Dark Lord’s most valued and most cursed. You didn’t really expect me to be involved in day-to-day operations. That was the task for Bellatrix, Lucius or Yaxley. They knew the people who did the grunt work.”

“Explain, please,” asked Alice Fenwick.

And in for a pound. 

“It’s pretty simple, actually. Let’s say Lucius, an Inner Circle member has about ten to twenty Mid-Circle members who answer to him. He knows who to contact them, and they know how to contact him, but they in principle, before the Dark Lord went mad, didn’t know each other names, so if a Mid-Circle member was found out, he wouldn’t be able to rat out the Inner Circle members. The Mid-Circle member would only know their small group of Outer Circle members and occasionally a couple other Mid-Circle, if they worked together often enough. Some of them were spy networks, others fighting networks. It all depended on who was good at what. That was of course, before the Dark Lord went mad. Lucius tried his hardest to keep the structure, so did the others. For the most part they succeeded, but you would find people like Karkaroff, who knew too much and died for it.”

“So, who were you responsible for?”

He had been asked that question at least ten times. He felt like Sisyphus must have after a thousandth time the stone slipped from him.

“No one, I was first a researcher and later on a spy and a researcher. The Dark Lord considered my duties too important to waste my life in a fight.”

“Would be smart of him, if you didn’t turn out traitor,” muttered Robards.

“Probably,” allowed Severus. Robards had a real penchant for stating the obvious.

“Wait a second. If they all don’t know each other's names, how are we supposed to find them?” Alice Fenwick interrupted.

“Bit by bit. Seeing as you have a lot of names from Severus, I can give you some, I think. Most people get careless after a while of working together. They will know names, sometimes just one, sometimes ten. You have to get the Death Eaters to talk.”

_And the day will come, when Hazel Potter will be the voice of reason and it will herald the coming of Ragnarok._

“What do you want me to say? She is right,” he shrugged, when they looked at him. “Do you want me to wave a magic wand and make all your problems disappear?”

Hazel snorted at that. She was the only one. Wizards…

“Do you have a spell to identify the Death Eaters?” asked Lawrence eagerly.

“He is messing with you, Mister Lawrence,” Hazel explained. “It’s a Muggle saying. Do you need my assistance for anything else?”

Kingsley shook his head.

“No, thank you, Hazel. I know you are quite busy. Thank you for making time for this.”

“You didn’t leave me much choice, Kingsley, but I understand, don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything else, but, I am afraid I cannot help with any investigation full time.”

“Of course not,” Kingsley nodded. “I am aware that the spring exam session is coming up Mostly because you keep bringing it up.”

His attempt at a joke felt flat in Severus’ ears. Shacklebolt had been trying to dig the Ministry out of a hole for the better part of two years, and it hasn’t been going very well. Hazel apparently did not grasp the full gravity of the situation, or perhaps she wanted to be encouraging, because she smiled at the Minister.

“Seeing as you have gotten the answers you were looking for from me, I shall leave you to it. Madam Fenwick, gentlemen, good luck with the investigation.”

It seemed, she really didn’t want to be there and help. Fascinating. Hazel Potter passing on an investigation into a mysterious murder. Was the End of Days really coming or was she just simply as tired as he felt?

It was rather unfortunate. It felt good to have someone in his corner. And although Hazel Potter-Black generally did not use her fame to influence others, she spoke with confidence that could have only come from staring Death in the face and walking away. She knew she was right about the Crawleys and about Severus and would crush anyone who opposed her notions of what was righteous. It was good to hide a bit behind someone like that. 

He caught himself staring and felt heat rising in his cheeks, so he did the one thing that has yet to fail him. He resorted to the wizarding nobility’s customs to cover it up.

“My lady,” he bowed. “Good luck with your exams.”

"Thank you, Your Grace," she responded. "I shall see you on Saturday." 

Damn, was there a slight teasing note in her voice? Did she notice his… random switching between familiarity or formality?

She said something else to Kingsley, but Severus didn’t catch it, too lost in his thoughts.

***

Lawrence, Robards and Kingsley made him go over the list again. Name by name. Listing all the information that he had on each of the Death Eaters he noted down during his way-too-long tenure as Albus Dumbledore’s spy.

It was tedious and by the end of Thursday he had a massive headache and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed, away from all the light and noise of the Auror Offices. 

Why would you even want windows underground?

Sleep, however, was even more elusive than usual. The nightmarish crime scene has managed to stir up some demons in his head.

The relief at the end of Thursday was almost welcomed. Almost, because Severus was fairly certain that the new direction the investigation was going would lead to the case being unsolved forever. Apparently, Robards and Lawrence didn’t really want to dig too deep into a case in which the victims included two Aurors and one high level Ministry employee, who were now all suspected of Death Eater connections.

Surprise, surprises.

“Severus, thank you for all the help you have given us for the past four days, you cannot imagine how much it means to have more information on the Death Eaters’ organization in general and the particular. Our society owes you a great debt already for what you have done and now even bigger for what you keep doing for us,” flowery words with little meaning. “We don’t wish to impose on your time and prevent another one of your brilliant books to be published,” that was the entirety of what Kingsley Shacklebolt said.

What Severus heard was somewhat different.

_I appreciate that you gave us the names of the Death Eaters, but we cannot do shit about them. And I’d rather you not be here when we shove this case at the bottom of the drawer and dump the drawer into the ocean. If we look into it too closely, it may turn out to be a crime committed by some of our own, worse possibly the ones who fought against the Dark Lord. And the shreds of trust the public has for the Ministry would disappear instantly. So, please go home and ignore the potential mass murderers in our own ranks, put on your pink glasses and let’s pretend it’s the Death Eaters’ infighting. It’s much easier to swallow for everyone._

Kingsley Shacklebolt was not an idiot. And Severus mostly appreciated it. The Wizarding World did not change, because of the Dark Lord’s fall. It was the exact same, bigoted, useless mass of sheep. And he was too tired to deal with their bullshit.

He waved Kingsley off and went in search of Jeremy Hill, hoping for extra strong sleep aid. Not that he needed a prescription, but he preferred to monitor his usage. He wasn’t about to become an addict.

“Severus, good to see you,” Jeremy greeted him.

Nodding curtly, Severus sat down in his favorite armchair in Jeremy’s office.

“What prompted you to schedule an extra session after you canceled on me last week?”

He did cancel. Talking to Jeremy was like making a Cure for Boils. Tedious, annoying, but ultimately necessary.

“I have been asked to consult on a case for a few days. I finished it yesterday night.”

“A case or the Crawley case?” 

For all his hatred of stupid people, smart ones were probably even worse.

“The Crawley case. I cannot sleep.”

“Ah.”

“Ah, what?”

“Do you know why?”

“That is not exactly difficult to figure out. The blasted crime scene was all over the news,” he scoffed at the healer.

“Did it remind you of a specific event in your past?”

“No. There were many that I have dreamed about in the days since Sunday.”

“Which ones?”

“1996. Hazel Potter had managed to use _Sectumsempra_ on Draco, my godson. She had no idea what the spell did, and Draco had cast a _Cruciatus_ on her, but I found him lying on the floor in the pool of his own blood.”

“What made you think of it?”

“One of the victims. A boy, teenager, was hit with _Sectumsempra_. I created it. And now it is being used to murder innocent children.”

“And that made you worry for Draco.”

Severus nodded slowly.

“And Hazel?”

 _Bloody shrinks_.

“Yes.”

“She did use potentially lethal spell on a classmate.”

“The war was heating up,” Severus answered. “Draco was at the time trying to murder Albus. Hazel suspected him. When he fired off with the _Crucio_ , she retaliated. As far as I am aware, he started it, when she accidentally walked in on him. I was terrified about Draco dying, but I was also terrified about her. Dark Magic is not something to be trifled with and she had no clue what she had cast. And she learned it from my book.”

“Ah.”

“I forgot it in the Potion classroom. It had a lot of corrections to the potions taught in sixth year. It was also the only Dark Magic spell in that book. I created it with her father and godfather in mind. I was angry at her. For using an unknown spell without trying it out first. Not that I wanted her to try it under any circumstances, but it is a useful one when you fight against the Dark Lord or his minions.”

He felt guilty about it long afterward. And even more furious with the annoying Gryffindor.

“Are you trying to excuse her use of the spell?”

“No, I was furious with her. Gave her detention till the end of the year, but I could understand why she did it.”

“And Draco?”

“He is my godson. I tried to steer him away from the whole mess and I failed. Miserably.”

“Do you feel guilty about not being able to protect them both?”

Of course, he bloody did. He failed Draco. He failed Hazel. He failed Lily.

“Of course, I bloody do,” he spat, standing up and crossing the room in fast strides back and forth. Like a caged animal.

“I failed them. Time and time again. I did everything I could and yet…”

“And yet? Draco is alive and on parole. He didn’t even get a prison sentence. Thanks to Hazel I understand. And Hazel, despite all, is thriving at the MUL.”

Severus glared at the man, stopping his pacing momentarily.

“I am not saying they don’t have any challenges, just that they have survived. You did good, Severus,” Jeremy said and somehow it drained all guilt, rage and self-recrimination from Severus and he collapsed onto the couch.

“Perhaps.”

“You cannot save everyone. We all make stupid, idiotic mistakes. Especially, when we are young. This war… it wasn’t just on you. You weren’t the only one fighting it. Neither was Hazel, nor Draco. They got caught up in the conflict that predated their birth by their entire life spans. Even now. If we are to be accurate, this conflict predated your birth and even mine. It came to ahead, and their choices were largely made for them, long before they were born. You must understand that and try to move past the guilt. You have done so much more than the rest of us. Forgive yourself, Severus.”

“Forgive myself?” he snarled. “How could I ever do that?”

“Try. Otherwise, you will never move on from this. Never have a life. And I am not talking right now as your healer. Right now, I am talking as a person who would have been very much affected by Voldemort’s regime,” Jeremy Hill had balls to speak the Dark Lord’s name, even now most people would not do it. “You have paid for your youthful mistake with everything you had and it is time to let it go. Let go of the guilt. You have repented, become an honorable man that many should take as an example. You have saved thousands from a fate worse than death. Start living, Severus, for I know you have never even tried. I ask you for this, because I feel that if the world was deprived of you, your brilliance and your honor, it would be just a bit darker than it already is.”

Severus scoffed weakly.

“I don’t think many would agree with you.”

“And I don’t think you have ever cared about jealous fools before, so why start now?” countered Jeremy.

Severus chuckled.

“Fair enough.” 

***

The conversation with Jeremy was pretty much finished after that. Severus got his meds and left. He had also made his delivery to the Potion Lab. He only managed to finish it thanks to his insomnia in the past days. The damned aurors had him occupied for the entire days, limiting his time for brewing highly specialized potions he usually made for Saint Mungo. 

The potions didn’t bring in a large income for him, as he only did the most advanced ones that the lab did not have the capacity to handle, but he didn’t do it for the money. 

Mostly, it was another way to pay back for the mistakes of his past. Jeremy was spot on, when he accused Severus of not living in the present. So far, Severus had not found a way to change it. 

He knew, intellectually, that he had gone above and beyond to guard his students. To save Hazel, Draco and the other miscreants. He almost died for his effort, and his throat was covered in the intricate scars from Nagini’s attack. He didn’t mind them too much. He was never one to care particularly about his appearance, although a healthy diet and plenty of exercises to prevent the worst effects of the Dark Magic, meant he did retain fairly slim, muscled figure. And since he wasn’t slaving away all the time above the cauldrons, getting more sleep meant he looked healthier and felt much better than he had since pretty much his teens. If one didn’t mind a great deal of scars, of course.

_The proof that we made it._

That was what Hazel had said.

It was a sappy, Gryffindor-ish sentiment, but maybe there was something to sappy, Gryffindor-ish sentiments after all. He had made it. He had been forgiven by the society for his crimes, on account of his sacrifices.

Maybe, it was time to try and forgive himself. 

Suddenly, someone much smaller crashed into him.

“I am terribly sorry,” Hazel Potter, of course…

And then he invited her for a coffee. She should know after all what had been going on. For her own safety.

Not because Severus wanted to have coffee with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * - U2's song  
> ** - heavy metal band  
> *** - Black Sabbath's song  
> **** - text of War Pigs


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is. Another chapter with 11k+ words. And right on time too. I am getting better at this whole regular writing gig.
> 
> The poem's not as good as I would like, but I guess for a children's rhyme it should work well enough.
> 
> Anyway, have fun. Hope you like it.
> 
> Best,  
> L

Hazel used to love Diagon Alley. It was a street of miracles, the first magical place she ever visited. The variety of shops had welcomed her into the world where dreams seemed reality and freedom from her relatives was within her reach. As a child she had been in awe of the place. Every corner had brought new and exciting objects, discoveries beyond what she could possibly imagine.

As an adult Hazel tried to stay as far away from the Diagon Alley as possible, venturing into the magical street only when absolutely necessary. And even then she would employ a heavy mask of appearance changing charms, in addition to an almost literal wall of notice-me-not ones. 

Every time she attempted to visit the magical alley as herself, the crowd surrounded her, asking about her, begging autographs and pictures. The first time it happened only the fact that Hermione and Neville were with her and shielded her from the crowed prevented a massive magical backlash, as she almost lost her grip on her powers and her mind, diving deep into a panic attack. 

Ever since then, she did not appear at the Diagon as herself, preferring to skirt around in shadows whenever necessary.

And unfortunately, that Friday it was quite necessary.

Hazel would have forgotten about the lunch at the Weasleys on Saturday if it wasn’t for Hermione reminding her. In all honesty, she would rather her best friend had not done so. She wasn’t ready to see Ron and his bumbling attempts at convincing her to date him.

Not that he stood a chance. 

Nevertheless, Hazel had promised Mrs. Weasley she would attend and she kinda wanted to see Bill and Charlie and George. Even Fleur would be a welcomed sight. Especially since Hazel had yet to meet the Victoire Weasley, Bill and Fleur’s child, who was born in the evening of May 2nd, just a day after the party. Hazel had meant to visit Fleur and little Victoire before in Saint Mungo, unfortunately with all the exams coming and her reduced shifts, by the time she managed to be in the hospital, Fleur had already been discharged.

Now, she had no real choice. It would have been rather offensive to decline the invitation and Hazel had always liked Bill. It would be only proper to congratulate him on his firstborn. 

So, here she was. Standing in the wizarding children's store in the middle of Diagon Alley trying to understand what to get for a newborn witch. 

“Lady Potter-Black!” the owner, Melissa, knew her quite well as she had shopped for the gifts for Edward at the _Little Witch, Little Wizard_ fairly often. Melissa knew who Hazel was mostly due to the protective charms placed on the shop. They were there to unsure the privacy of the buyers. A remnant of the war, when Muggleborns feared for the lives of their pregnant wives and small children. Melissa was also rather trustworthy as she never mentioned Hazel being a regular customer in her store, a kindness few store owners had extended to her, while chasing their own profits. It had also made Hazel a loyal customer. “Something for your godson today?”

“No, Melissa. A friend of mine, William Weasley, was blessed with the birth of his first daughter this month and I am looking for a gift for the little one.”

“Oh, that is a happy occasion. May Fate bless him and his!” she said in what Hazel presumed to be a traditional manner.

“May Fate bless him and his,” agreed Hazel easily.

She wasn’t entirely sure why people said that or if that was the correct response. A lot of people did make similar statements, but the origin of this remained a mystery to her. Andromeda had never mentioned it, and Hazel simply picked it up by hanging around a hospital way too much. Was it some kind of religion that Purebloods and Halfbloods practiced? She would have to ask Andy or maybe Severus. They both would likely know the origin of the saying.

“Perhaps then this beautiful bib we have here?” Melissa showed Hazel aggressively pink cloth. “Or some animated plushies? A Gryffin maybe for a little Gryffindor?”

Hazel shook her head.

“Let’s stay away from Hogwarts’ houses. She still has eleven years to go and seeing as her mother is French, she might choose Beauxbatons.”

Melissa’s gasp told Hazel did she once again proved her complete lack of knowledge in regards to wizarding society.

“That would be highly irregular. After all, her father is a Weasley!”

Whatever that had to do with the choice of a school of his kid. Didn’t the mother have anything to say about her child’s future? It was definitely a high time to visit Andromeda. This whole relationship bullshit was starting to grate on Hazel’s nerves.

“Let’s just get some of the plushies. Maybe the teddy bear that will hug the little one?” Hazel pointed to the toy.

“Oh, that’s one of our best!” Melissa exclaimed. “The kids love it!”

“Great. And that Dragon jumpsuit that will breathe steam. Is it safe?”

“Very much so. The steam is just from water and always at room temperature,” ensured the clerk enthusiastically.

“Perfect. That works. Please, package it for a gift.”

“Right away, ma’am. That would be seventeen galleons and three sickles.”

Hazel handed over the money and received a neat, brightly colored package in return.

“Thank you, Melissa,” she said offhandedly, but the woman’s eyes grew wide at the mention of her name.

“Oh, no. Thank you, Lady Potter! Thank you, so so much, ma’am!”

The older witch had tears in her eyes and she was shaking Hazel’s hand now, thanking her profusely.

Hazel did not point out that she was just a runt, barely old enough to apparate, and definitely not old enough to be addressed as ma’am. And she did not feel deserving of such respect or such vigorous thanks. She did think she had probably overstepped in using the witch’s first name. Even committed a faux pas. Andromeda did mention you should only do it when invited.

She did not mention any of it. There was no point, Melissa wouldn’t listen anyway.

***

“Aunt Andy? Why do wizards always say _May Magic bless you and yours_ when talking about the birth of a child? Does it have religious connotations?”

Her not-so-random visit to Andromeda’s house on the Saturday morning was still met with welcoming warmth. After Hazel exhausted Edward, she sat down with Andromeda for tea.

“Pretty much,” said Andromeda. “Are you staying for lunch?”

“No, I have to go see the Weasleys. I promised Mrs. Weasley I would come by. The entire family is there, even Charlie came from Romania to see his niece.”

“Ah, of course. Victoire.”

“Yes. So what kind of religion is it that wizards practice?”

That was a very interesting topic and, as Hazel was not Hermione, she had little knowledge of wizarding religious practices.

“Pagan, of course. The religion itself glorifies Magic as Goddess, opposed by Nature, in addition to Death and Life, Chaos and Order, Luck and Fate. Two sides of the same coin, all bound by Time. Nine gods, two solstices, two equinoxes and four midpoints between them, for Time cannot be bound to one, but it binds them all.”

“You didn’t mention it before,” Hazel frowned. “Actually, nobody had ever mentioned such a religion to me.”

“Most Muggleborns believe it to be childish. They see magic as a tool, not a divine force. Purebloods and Halfbloods often find themselves ridiculed for their beliefs, as if Christianity was any less outlandish. At least Magic obviously exists. And the Ministry frowns upon it as well in the recent centuries. There are certain rituals in this faith that are considered Dark Magic. A folly if you ask me, but the Ministry was never particularly enlightened bunch. Old farts in Wizengamot practice it still behind the closed doors, but officially they are not in favor of it.”

“Are you a believer?”

“Yes, of course,” Andromeda answered. “I am a Black. Why are you interested?”

“I wish to know more about this world that I am a part of. Sometimes it confuses the hell out of me. Especially since my Hogwarts’ years were rather unusual. Not much beyond classwork and foiling the latest Voldemort’s scheme could be fitted in. Especially in later years, when I was pretty much exhausted from nightmares.”

“Albus had never done right by you,” Andromeda snapped. “Old, manipulative maniac that he was. The heir to the Black family and you know nothing of the world you are a major part of.”

“I am sorry,” muttered Hazel embarrassed, feeling heat raising in her cheeks.

“Not your fault. Nobody expects an eleven year old to find out all this information on their own. Not that you would. As far as I know, the religious section of Hogwarts is severely lacking. Most of the text are typically found in private collections. Some are banned, but, of course, nobody really cares. And as long as you don’t broadcast it, nobody will ever find out. The aurors are not going to ransack the noble houses, even ones that belonged to the convicted Death Eaters. That is simply not done, as there will almost always be a third or fourth cousin, who will inherit once the conviction is passed.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Don’t worry, child, I will try to fill in the gaps in your knowledge as much as I can,” Andromeda smiled at her gently.

“Thanks.”

Hazel never really had anyone to ask these things. She was always too embarrassed by her lack of knowledge and the welcoming spirit of the Weasleys was to… mortifying to impose those questions on them.

Andromeda, on the other hand, pretty much forced her to ask them. To an extent, she was rising Hazel alongside Teddy. 

“There are religious texts in the Black library at Grimmauld Place, although I can imagine most of them will not explain to you the basic concepts of the beliefs,” admitted Andromeda. “Blacks have been pagans since the conception of the house hundreds of years ago. It was passed on from a parent to a child, so anything you may find there will likely be completely useless.”

“The Wheel of the Year is the basis of the faith. There is Samhain for Death and Beltane for Life, there is Imbolc for Fate and Lughnasadh for Luck, there is Yule for Order and Litha for Chaos, there is Mabon for Magic and Ostara for Nature. And then, there is Time, which does not have one holy day, but rather is a part of them all.”

And then she intoned with seriousness and in a deep voice.

_Eight there are_

_Eternal, unchanging_

_Bound by One_

_Ominous, unrelenting_

_Two sides, two faces_

_Opposite, yet united_

_Many rules, many places_

_The same, yet parted_

_Lady Fate paves our routes,_

_While Lord Luck rolls the dice_

_Lady Magic warps our minds,_

_Formed in Lord Nature’s hands_

_Lady Life gives us breath_

_Taken away by Lord Death_

_Lady Chaos scatters our wits_

_Arranged from Lord Order’s bricks_

_And Lord Time binds them all_

_Unforgiving on his throne_

Hazel laughed out loud in delight.

“This is brilliant! I feel like I should be writing this down,” she grinned.

Andromeda chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“It’s not exactly the poem for the ages, but all kids know it.”

“Every day I feel like I am gaining this little piece of what should have been,” Hazel said nostalgically.

“Do you wish to convert? I am sure if Albus were alive, he would be quite disappointed.”

“Why would he be?” asked Hazel. “I am just learning about my ancestors right now, where I come from. And if I convert, it’s my bloody business.”

“Albus was the one who changed the holidays in Hogwarts to the Muggle ones. He, himself, was not a practitioner of the wizarding faith. I am unsure as to why,” she paused for a second. “Actually, no. I am fairly certain he was an atheist. And I doubt Minerva would be willing to go back on that either.”

“Why?”

“Her father was a reverend, I think. Or a priest. I am not familiar with Muggle faiths enough to distinguish between the two.”

“I don’t think there is much of a difference*. I think it is just the same name for priests of different religions[Actually it is different christian denomination, but Hazel admits to being not well versed in Muggle religion],” Hazel mused. “Although, I do not know myself. The Dursleys were not religious. We didn’t attend church or anything like that. They would watch TV on Sundays, so I am probably as uninformed as you are.”

“Ah, and are you interested in the Faith?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Hazel. “I would at least like to know about it. I know there is something after death, you know. I’ve been there. And it felt… good, so maybe, I guess. At least the way I see it, it has more basis in reality than Christianity does. Muggles don’t have ghosts or necromancy and they haven’t returned from the dead, right?”

“Valid point, although a skeptic could explain it away by memory of body or imprint of the person remaining. I could tell you a bit about it, if you want,” Andromeda offered. “I will raise Edward with the Faith.”

“I feel like I should at least know what it is about, you know? I am so separated from what my family had been like. And I think I would like to know more about it. The Potters, the Blacks. What were they like? What traditions have they practiced? I don’t know any of it. All I have ever had is a bunch of pictures I got from Hagrid my first year. And that’s it. Everybody always says how I look like my dad a lot, but have my mum’s eyes, but no one actually ever talked about them.”

Andromeda’s eyes were sad.

“All I got from Sirius was some pranks that I didn’t particularly like, because I thought they were mean spirited. And I have seen a couple of memories of Severus Prince, both of my mum and my dad… But you cannot know anything from a couple of disjointed memories and his relationship with them was… complicated.”

“Yeah, I doubt Severus would be exactly willing to share much. It probably wouldn’t be very pleasant for him.”

“I would not ask him,” Hazel muttered. “I wouldn’t want to bring it all back for him.” 

“No, I would not expect you to. You are far too kind for that. I, unfortunately, had not known your parents very well, but you could probably ask Minerva. She would likely be willing to share some stories. As for family history and traditions, you may ask the goblins if there is something in your vaults. They will likely be at least some diaries of Blacks in there or in the library at Grimmauld Place and in other properties.”

“I haven’t even seen all of them,” Hazel groaned. “There is like twenty of them or something.”

“Yes, but not all of them will have extensive libraries. The Black Family Manor in Debryshire might though.”

“I’ve seen that one. It’s in a good state of repair, tended to by some house elves, but it’s the bloody size of Malfoy Mannor.”

“Well, you might want to investigate it some more, but on that note, I did know your grandfather - Charlus, a bit better, and of course Dorea, your grandmother. She was my… great aunt,” she finished after a few seconds pause.

“The family trees in wizarding world get complicated fast,” Hazel groaned again.

“Indeed, they do. Try going deeper than four generations are you are pretty much related to nine out of ten Wizengamot members one way or another.”

“So, how were they? My grandparents?”

“Dorea was a typical Black. I have no idea how she and Charlus ever made it work, but they were quite happy with each other. I met them typically at Black family events, which were hosted at least four times a year. And what a stuck up crowd that was. Dorea surprisingly fit right in there, although, admittedly, she was much saner than the majority of them. And a bit less intense. The Blacks tended to be very intense. She doted on James a lot too. She was almost forty when they had him. Very late for a witch to have their first child. We usually get married quite early and back then, it was even worse. Right out of Hogwarts you were supposed to be engaged and the bonding would typically take place within a year,” she smiled not a little nostalgically. “She was pretty much the favorite of that old bastard Arcturus. Arcturus the Second that is, Sirius’ grandfather. That’s why I wasn’t that surprised when the goblins told you that the ogre stipulated you in his will as his heir.”

“It threw _me_ off. I mean, I have never even met him.”

“Be glad you didn’t, although I think his portrait is somewhere in the Manor. If you think Phineas Nigellus is annoying, old bat, Arcturus is twice that. Dorea though was his favored cousin. She brought the gentler side of him out. I have heard that he locked himself for a week in his rooms after her funeral.”

“You heard?” 

“I was already cast out of the family at that point. Dorea died only in 1977, three years before you were born, very young for a witch. She followed Charlus, who died a year prior in a magical explosion. He was an inventor, you could say. One of the spells went wrong. Lots of Potion Masters and inventors in your family there. As for Dorea, I remember her being beautiful and proper, but in a more… delicate manner. Not as cold as Narcissa, if you don’t mind the comparison. Gentler than majority of the house of Black. And she never broke contact with me.”

“Huh, if she was such a proper Black, what did she think about my mum?” Hazel grimaced, as she remembered the stance of her ancestors on Muggleborns.

“She didn’t care, as far as I know. Dorea was very good at family politics, but she wasn’t even close to the insane zeal and radicalism of Bellatrix. Most Blacks were traditional, and sure, some had been hunting Muggles for sport, but then again, only Regulus and Bella had been radical enough to join the Dark Lord. And the former had quickly realized that it wasn’t particularly smart.”

“Everybody liked Dorea, and she wasn’t a Black by name at that point. Old Arcturus didn’t mind Potters marrying Muggleborns nearly as much. I don’t know what Sirius told you, but most of us were cast out not really because we married Muggles or Muggleborns, although we would be certainly shunned by the family for such an act, but primarily because we acted against the family’s interests. The process to being disowned required more than simply marrying the wrong person. Dorea’s marriage was a surprise, but no one really stood against it. The old bats agreed when she asked for the permission and that was that. Potters weren’t even our allies at that point, but they had a good standing and money, so it was approved without a fuss. Sirius acted against his family for years before he ran away. I broke a marriage contract, the same with Cedrella, for example, who married Septimus Weasley. That is a very serious offense against the other family and a century or two ago it would likely result in a blood feud. And those usually ended in a lot of deaths.”

“What is a blood feud?”

“Pretty much offense taken way too far, resulting in a minor war between the families and their allies. Occasionally, in history, it managed to blow up into a full scale civil war. That’s why the Malfoys don’t talk to the Weasleys too. Five or six generations ago a Weasley broke a marriage contract, they were ready to go to war, when the Ministry intervened. Since then, they have been pretty much mortal enemies. It was also one of the last such occasions. Afterward, the families usually tried to work it out without honor duels and outright battles. However, since Blacks have been allies with the Malfoys, we were not supposed to talk or befriend to the Weasleys either and Cedrella broke that arrangement, so it was either losing the alliance or casting out one family member. Usually less costly if you had as many potential heirs as Blacks back then.”

“That’s crazy!” Hazel exclaimed with a horrified fascination.

“Not really, if all you care about is heirs, power and money. They are a nasty bunch, the wizarding nobility. The whole lot of them, regardless of the side they were on. At least by the standards of modern Muggle sensibilities.”

“So what did Sirius do to warrant the disowning apart from being critical of the family?” asked Hazel curiously.

“He refused to marry, of course. Even Dorea was angry with him for that. Also, he was a Gryffindor and couldn’t keep his disapproval of the family to himself. Had he kept his mouth shut, he probably would be in a much stronger position to negotiate his engagement with Walburga. But Sirius never could do just that.”

“Ah. So did the Blacks approve of my grandfather?”

“Charlus, yes. The Potters have had this weird ability to be able to play nice with pretty much everybody. They were a small family in the last two centuries, but well regarded by all sides. Mostly taking neutral stance on things. Your father was the first to ally so closely with one side, but even then, from my understanding, he only did so because of the threat to Lily. Charlus was a relaxed, laid back, well meaning man and stayed well out of the war. He loved Dorea very much, and I am fairly sure, he managed to even further mellow her down. That’s also where you father inherited his love of pranks, although Charlus’ were more… well intentioned than James’. He had once changed the hair of half of the Black family to green, which as you can imagine was taken quite with a fair share of good humor by all of us, proud Slytherins and all. And it was still before the real raise of Voldemort, so the tensions didn’t run as high. It got worse in the following years. Especially late sixties and seventies.” 

“Thank you for telling me this. I have never known anything but their names,” Hazel said with an almost embarrassing amount of gratitude in her voice.

“It’s alright, child, I should have spoken of this sooner. I will try to find some of the pictures of the family back then and send copies to you. They should still be somewhere in the attic.”

“Thank you, Aunt Andy!”

As Hazel left she realized that she had not asked the questions that buzzed through her head ever since leaving Melissa’s store, distracted by the stories of her family.

***

Squeezed between George and Charlie and surrounded by redheads at the Weasley family table was always something of an experience. Even now, years later, Hazel remembered the awkward first time she landed herself at the Burrow. And it was comforting to be there once again, being mothered and stuffed with food to the brink of a coma by Molly Weasley. 

And the Weasley Matron wasn’t the only comfort in the house. The gentleness of Arthur, the solid reassurance of Charlie, the happy smiles of Fleur and Bill. Even the stuck up, rigid posture of Percy.

Little Vicotoire was barely two weeks old and quite obviously still confused about all the racket her family was making, but surprisingly she did not cry. Must have been the Weasley’s genes.

It was unmistakably a celebration of the new member of the family. Everyone was cheerful and all faces sported grins. 

Almost as if nothing changed at all.

But one would only have to look just a bit beyond the surface to see the broken hand of the Weasley family clock with the name _Fred_ and look into George’s eyes to see the missing pieces of the whole.

He looked better, more whole than the last time Hazel had seen him up close, which was almost six months prior, when she accidentally run into him in Diagon Alley. But he didn’t joke as much, pranks were fewer and farther in between.

That’s how it was now. It was also why Hazel tended to avoid the large gatherings at the Weasleys. They tugged at her heart just a bit. 

Hermione was missing too. Her relationship with Ron apparently deteriorating more and more in recent months. A year ago she would have still been invited.

“Would you like some more, Hazel?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “You are way too thin, girl. I should really fatten you up.”

Hazel politely declined. She already felt stuffed and had managed to get two pieces of treacle tart.

“I think, mum, she’s had enough,” muttered George from her right.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. It was fantastic as always!”

“Thank you, my dear,” the woman smiled at her.

“How are your studies, Hazel?” asked Charlie through the noise.

“Fairly good. I am really excited to be a healer,” she responded. “I already have some hours a mediwitch at Saint Mungo. It’s inspirational.”

“I am sure you will be a fantastic one!” he said. “You were always the first one to help and I am glad you have found a better way to channel your saving-people-thing than fighting monsters,” he grinned at her.

“No more fighting for me,” she responded. “I’ve had enough for a lifetime.”

“That’s for sure. It’s good to find your calling,” he smiled gently. Charlie was, despite looking like a brute, possibly the gentlest of the whole lot. Which was astonishing considering his choice of work. Or maybe not, having enough patience and tenderness to coax a hurt animal into trusting you probably translated into other areas of life. Even if the hurt animal was a rampant dragon.

Hazel caught Ronald gazing at them with something akin to jealousy. 

“If only other people were so willing to forgive my non-conformity to the _established rules of the society_ ,” she sneered.

“Ignore Ron, he will get over it,” Charlie whispered. “He just needs to grow up a little.”

“One would think war would fix that.”

“Not for everyone, I think,” he considered. “Some people come out of war like you, not willing to see or cause any more bloodshed or hurt, others harden, I think. Become more soldier like. I am not sure. I don’t think going through auror training does one any favors, you know?”

“Why not?”

“Aurors are…” Charlie grimaced. “Well, sometimes they are convinced that they are always on the right side and everybody else is in the wrong. If you win, you become convinced that you are righteous and those who oppose you are not. And fame doesn’t help.”

“I’d happily give up mine in a heartbeat.”

“I am sure you would,” he chuckled. “But your fame came with sacrifice. A lot of it. And you have experienced how fickle it can be.”

“I guess.”

“Ron’s a good guy, just still a bit immature. Not surprising, really. Boys mature slower than girls. He will learn. He will fail a couple of times and discover that world doesn’t owe him shit, or at least it doesn’t think it owes him shit and there is a lot of people who sacrificed more. Just because you are a big hero doesn’t mean you don’t have to work hard after the dust had settled.”

“I hope so. He is my very first friend and I would hate to lose that. He was with me through the toughest fights of my life. Most of them at least,” Hazel corrected herself.

“What he is, is an idiot,” muttered George.

“Come on, George, He’s not that bad. We, despite being a light family, were brought up with Pureblood values. It’s difficult to understand that not everybody follows the same standard. I think he thought that you being friends meant you would be overjoyed to marry him.”

“Don’t you two hold the same standards?”

“Nah, I am not getting married and having a perfect wife that is seen, but not heard. Not really interested in that,” he paused for a second, considering her carefully. “Just don’t tell mum.”

“I won’t,” Hazel promised. It seemed like there was more to it than that, but by now Hazel knew when not to press.

Maybe he had a Muggle girlfriend somewhere in Romania who wouldn’t understand the intricacies of idiotic, seventeenth century believes or simply was far more progressive than the Weasleys seemed to be.

“Bill does,” George interjected. “Mostly because he’s the oldest, I think. Keeping the traditions alive and all!”

“So, are you interested in somebody different than my little brother?” Charlie changed the topic.

To her eternal shame, Hazel blushed lightly.

“No, I am not.”

“Oh, really. That blush says something different,” both Charlie and George chuckled.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Hazel collected herself. “And even if, I doubt anything could ever come of it.”

“If you ever need to talk,” he said seriously. “I am here, as is the rest of us,” he said while George hummed in agreement.

“We can beat them up too!” he added.

“I’d rather you didn’t try to beat anyone up, but I am good for now. I might drop by on you in Romania one day.”

“You would be welcomed,” he winked at her. “I always have time for my little, adopted sister,” he ruffled her hair. “And you have another friend in there as well!”

“Another one?” Hazel looked at him confused.

“Of course, Norbert, or Norberta anyway.”

“Ah, Hagrid’s little dragon.”

“Not so little, anymore. They grow fast! She already has two children!”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I really want to meet her again. I don’t have the greatest experience with dragons.”

“I don’t know about that. You flew on one,” George reminded her. “If Fred and I got into half the trouble you three did, we would have been kicked out on our butts in our first year.”

“Yeah, it was one of the most terrifying and uncomfortable experiences of my life. Not to mention the Triwzarding Tournament.”

“That I can agree with you on. I have no idea what Albus was thinking.”

“I think he was thinking _bait_.”

Charlie and George looked at her incredulously and then laughed out loud.

“Your sense of humor is sometimes a bit dark, isn’t it?” the older redhead managed to spit between chuckles.

“Huh, if it only were sometimes, I’d be quite lucky. I got the Head of DMLE rather angry at me, when I mention some Muggle songs at the sight of the Crawley murder.”

“Huh, Muggle songs, you say?” Charlie looked with interest. “I’ve never really heard many.”

“Yeah, they were pretty appropriate, although probably not for Alice Fenwick.”

“Ah, I have heard about her. She is rather by the book one. Good at her job, but a bit rigid.”

“More or less. Her son, I think, died in the battles over Ministry.”

“That screws up everyone. No mother should ever bury her child,” Charlie responded with just a tinge of sadness in his voice and Hazel felt George move and look away.

“Yeah,” the younger redhead muttered.

Then Bill approached them, holding his daughter in his arms.

“Hey, you three! What are you whispering about in the corner?”

“Just talking about riding dragons,” Hazel responded.

“Ah, adventures!” Bill said. “I don’t think I should let you near my daughter. You will be a bad influence on her,” he laughed.

“I am pretty sure nobody has luck as bad as mine!”

“Probably not. Here,” Bill held out Victoire for Hazel and she took the child. “She should meet the adopted aunt! She already likes your gift.”

Hazel looked down at the girl. She had Fleur’s coloring, surprisingly. She had short, light blond hair and greyish eyes, but Hazel knew it could change in time. The little girl followed her face for a bit, but then a laughter erupted on the other side of the room and she was distracted.

“She is very cute!” Hazel said.

“Yeah, and you seem more comfortable holding her than I am!” Bill faked a mortally offended look.

“That is because I have been working with children in the hospital for two years now,” she laughed at him. “I’d be concerned about my career choice if I wasn’t!”

“Ah, I give up!”

“You are quite a lucky girl, Victoire!” Hazel tickled the baby lightly on the cheek. “Bound to be spoiled by your uncles and aunts!”

“Oh, she most definitely will!” Charlie agreed. “None of the rest of us seems ready to settle just yet, so she will likely be the only baby in the family, unless Bill here plans for a new one soon!”

“Not yet, brother! One is enough for now. We will see in a few years!”

“Mum would be disappointed if you didn’t have at least two.”

“Oh, I’m sure she would be. Perhaps, brother, you should find yourself a wife and provide her with some, then. Maybe you can find one that isn’t terrified of dragons!”

Charlie chuckled.

“No, thank you, brother. My dragons keep me quite occupied.”

Ginny ran up to them.

“Hey, we are going to play some Quidditch. Are you all joining up?” she asked.

“Not me,” Hazel said.

“Oh, come on, Hazel. You are the only one who can beat Charlie, and you know it,” Ginny whined.

“That’s alright. I will skip too and you can play without seekers,” the man answered.

“Oh, Ron and I hoped you would join up, Hazel!” Ginny tried again.

“I am sorry, Gin. I have this charity party for Saint Mungo today, and I would probably not make it if I started playing now. It’s unbecoming to show up covered in dirt or so Andromeda tells me.”

“You are going to another party?” Ron joined them, trying very hard not to scowl at Charlie, but Hazel saw his look anyway.

“Unfortunately,” Hazel grimaced. Actually, the Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball was probably her favorite out all of parties in the year. It was at least for a good cause and most people attending were healers and potions masters, so at least not all attention was on her. “It’s for a good cause - free clinic at Saint Mungo.”

Ron frowned.

“Saint Mungo has a free clinic?”

“Yes! It’s open to everyone and gives out medicinal potions for free to those who need them,” Hazel said enthusiastically. “I actually want to volunteer there when I complete my studies. It’s not like I need the money.”

Ron started opening his mouth to say something, but Bill interrupted him.

“Let’s go play some Quidditch! Hazel, would you mind getting my daughter to Fleur?” Ron send him an annoyed glare at that.

“No, of course not. Don’t worry about it!”

“But you are coming next Saturday, right?” Ginny inquired.

“Next Saturday?”

“Yeah, we are going to the Leaky Cauldron with the DA, remember? Seamus and Dean decided to do a monthly beer-drinking into a thing.”

Hazel didn’t, but decided not to voice that.

“Sure, I’ll come,” she nodded to her and Ginny ran off.

Hazel got the little girl to Fleur, complementing the older witch on her beautiful daughter and then Charlie and she followed the rest of the Weasley crowd at a distance.

“I think Ron wanted to talk to you a bit today,” Charlie mused.

“I think so too. You and Bill spoiled his plan,” Hazel was mildly amused at the innocent look he sent her.

“It’s better we spoil his plan than he makes an even worse fool out of himself,” he said.

“Is it some sort of conspiracy?”

“No, but you are obviously not interested in him and from what you told me, you are interested in someone else. Bill and I have always been picking up clues from each other. We are the oldest, so we protect our siblings.”

“Ah,” Hazel muttered.

“You are included in that list, too. Even if it means keeping Ron away from you for a while.”

“How long are you staying in the UK?” Hazel decided to change the subject.

“Just this week. Really wanted to see Victoire, but it’s dragons’ mating season, so it’s pretty much all hands on deck.”

“Dragons’ mating season.”

“Yep! May to August. Busy time for dragon tamers, so I could only get away for a couple of days.”

“I honestly don’t want to imagine that.”

“It’s quite impressive actually! Messy too. That’s why the reserve is really large. Nothing like the area during the Triwizarding Tournament. It spans for miles and miles, so that dragons have a lot of space. Most in the reserve are endangered species. Like the Horntail, so sometimes we make arrangements with other reserves to have a specific species brought in to increase the gene pool.”

“Smarter than the Black family.”

Charlie laughed again.

“You missed your calling. You should’ve become a comedian!”

“Hilarious,” deadpanned Hazel, which only prompted more laughter.

It was nice to laugh and joke around with Charlie. In her fear of another confrontation with Ron, Hazel had forgotten that there were other Weasleys who considered her family.

***

The dress Hazel had selected for the ball fitted her perfectly, as did the earrings and necklace. Hermione was in awe. And yet, when they entered the Charity Ball, she still felt so much out of place, as if somebody would come up to her and ask her _politely_ to leave and not mess up the place for the other guests.

During the Ministry Anniversary Ball Hazel’s feelings were mostly covered by irritation and annoyance. It seemed like the occasion was a intricate charade made for convincing people that _everything was alright_. And a lot of her friends were there. Of course, her friends were still quite renowned, war heroes and all, but they were normal. Hazel went with the through school and war, and they were familiar. 

The Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball, on the other hand, has always made her feel like an impostor, like she didn’t belong in the room and would be find out within minutes. Nothing really helped that feeling, for the gathering was one of high and mighty. The elite of the Wizarding World would join for a cause most probably did not care for in the slightest. It was a social event. One that was marked in the calendars of noble families, rich businessman and high ranking government officials. It was attended by renowned healers and potion masters. 

It was an occasion to be seen at. 

_Look at us being charitable_ , screamed the dresses, tuxedos and robes that could alone pay for years of free clinic at Saint Mungo, without counting the jewelry. 

Hazel did not grew up with any such displays of wealth. The Dursleys may have pretended, but they were still only a middle class family. Hazel herself didn’t even feel like middle class most of the time. She had the money, of course, but it was more about the deep rooted _I wore rags two years ago_ feeling. The necklace and earrings didn’t help in the slightest.

“Are you alright, Hazel?” asked Hermione, as she picked up two wine glasses from the waiter’s tray and handed her one.

“Yes, just thinking.”

And she was. Hazel hadn’t been able to see the divide between social classes, when she was at Hogwarts. At first, she simply assumed that this was how the Wizarding World was. Everybody had everything, because… magic. 

It made sense to her back than, as an eleven year old, when she had been the only one wearing Dudley’s rags under her uniform. And she didn’t pay much attention to it over the years. It was easy to believe that if you can transmute your clothes, there should be literally little to no poverty, right? Even the Weasleys had stuff. Sure, they weren’t rich like the Malfoys, and they had struggled a bit, but they also had seven children. And they still got quite expensive pets and brooms and payed their way through Hogwarts for all of them, which was staggeringly expensive. There was disparity there and it was large, but the Weasleys weren’t starving.

Only after leaving Hogwarts, Hazel had realized how privileged the school had been. Hogwarts was for rich kids. There was an entire population, which did not attend boarding schools, didn’t attend any schools in fact.

Being able to pay for Hogwarts pretty much guaranteed a good career. In the Ministry, business, law, healing, craftsmanship. Not being able to go to Hogwarts typically guaranteed that one would not have their NEWTs, and likely OWLs. Not to mention the Magical University of London education, which costs were so high that they placed insurmountable barrier of entry for well over ninety percent of the wizarding society.

Not getting your NEWTs sentenced one to being an assistant craftsman, a store clerk or a common worker.

There were other schools, day schools, that allowed one to pass the NEWTs, but they were fewer than Hazel expected. Majority of adults in the wizarding world barely scrapped OWLs and then got to work, hoping they might be able to one day pay for their children’s education.

And that was not even mentioning the non-humans. For them, it pretty much varied by race. Werewolves, giants, hags and vampires were at the bottom. Any sort of educations was barred to them, as no schools accepted any of those races. The only way to advance for them was home-schooling, by their parents, and that usually did not earn them even the OWLs. Veelas typically had their own communities and did not really participate in the wizarding society as such. Goblins had their own system that they managed to gain after centuries of conflict. Centaurs and merpeople kept to themselves just as veelas did.

Even if you were a part magical being, it was unlikely you would be able to gain education or gainful employment. Unless your family was rich and powerful. Like Fleur’s. 

It was such a huge disparity that was completely invisible to Hazel that it shocked her to the core once the war was over and she started living in the real society. 

“What are you thinking so deeply about?” Hermione brought her back from her thoughts once more.

“The inequality of the wizarding society.”

“Ah, that is indeed a topic for deep consideration,” Hermione muttered. “Sometimes I cannot believe how big the disparity between us and others is.”

“I know, right? And you don’t even see it at all. It’s like at Hogwarts it sort of doesn’t exist.”

“True. Hogwarts is a very elitist school,” Hermione agreed. “Although the powerful Muggleborns get a huge discount. I am thinking mostly so that we integrate and don’t blow up the Muggle world accidentally. Other Muggleborns go to day school. Lots drop out before NEWTs.”

“Hello, ladies,” a voice interrupted them. It was Jerry Masters. Behind him stood an entire group of their colleagues from MUL. 

“Guys” Hazel greeted them.

“How are you doing, Hazel? Hermione?”

Jerry was one of the typical rich kids. His family was probably on par with the Malfoys, although they made their fortunes in craftsmanship, business and healing. He was also mildly irritating.

“Fairly well,” Hermione answered his question politely. “And you?”

Multiple assurances could have been heard from the group regarding their good fortune.

“You both look stunning today,” Tomar Castello approached Hazel and kissed her hand just, holding it just slightly too long. He was a third year business and law student. He was also filthy rich Pureblood, although his family was firmly neutral. Tomar was also a sleaze bag, if you asked Hazel.

“Thank you, Tomar,” muttered Hazel and proceeded to exchange greetings with other members of the group. Most were healing students or came from rich families that wanted their kids to be seen.

“So, are you guys excited for Prince’s speech?” Thomas Yeats asked.

“Totally!” Derval O’Brian, 3rd year healing student, exclaimed. “You are so lucky to have been taught by him.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you actually were in the classroom with us,” Neville muttered.

“Come on! He’s a genius!” argued Derval.

“He is also a bastard,” answered Neville. “War hero and brilliant Potions Master and I respect him and his courage, but he is an evil bastard nonetheless.”

“He’s been better since the war ended,” protested Hazel.

“Sure, to you maybe,” Neville laughed. “He can still make me shake in fear with one look.”

“Oh, Neville,” Hermione sighed. “Let’s go to the other hall and find some good seats. I, for one, really want to hear Professor Snape’s talk.”

“It’s Prince these days,” corrected Hazel, but Hermione just waved her off.

It was a tradition that one or two Potion Masters or Healers would have a lecture before the beginning of the Charity Ball. It was an honor to be selected, for from what Hazel knew, only those who most distinguished themselves in the area of research in the medical field were ever invited to give the talk. The lecture would be followed by dinner and finally the dancing would start after that.

They met more fellow student on the way and managed to find a couple of tables in the front left side of the stunningly decorated room.

People slowly trickled in over the next half hour to the hall, leading up to the opening, which would be done by Saint Mungo’s Head Healer, Alexandra Bonham. The woman was a direct descendant of Saint Mungo’s founder, Mungo Bonham and a professor at MUL. She was widely well-regarded witch in her late seventies and had been a Head Healer for almost twenty-one years. 

“I cannot believe I will get to meet Duke Prince,” one of the girls, Blair Cavin, was saying. “He’s so smart and handsome.”

Neville almost sputtered at the comment.

“I will give you smart, but handsome? You gotta be kidding.”

“Of course, he is!” Morgan Lloyd supported her friend. “In a dark, roguish sort of way.”

“Half of his neck is covered in scars!” protested Neville. “And his nose wouldn’t look out of place on an eagle!”

“You don’t understand at all, Neville,” Morgan replied. “He got them fighting You Know Who! That only adds to his charm!”

“No, I do not,” he agreed.

“We’ll never understand girls, mate,” Wayne Hopkins slapped Neville on his shoulder. “You might as well give up now.”

“No, I don’t get it either,” interjected Neville’s girlfriend, Hannah Abbott. “He was always so angry and mean to everyone, but Slytherins.”

“It’s a tragic hero vibe,” said Hazel. “And most people here didn’t go to Hogwarts, so they didn’t have Severus as their teacher.”

“You call him Severus!” a couple people gasped.

Hazel shrugged.

“I have known him for a very long time,” she gave by the way of explanation.

“Of course,” Blair muttered. “He saved your life and you saved his. I guess you would be on a first name basis.”

“Something like that.”

“Damn, he’s so intimidating,” Morgan said. “I want to ask him to dance with me today, but I don’t know if I have the nerve.”

“I wouldn’t do that, unless you want to be reduced to feeling like a flobberworm,” Hermione advised.

“Oh, come on, he cannot be that bad.”

“He has little patience for all people. With some rare exceptions,” concurred Neville. “And he can shut you up with just one look.”

The rest of the discussion died as the organizing committee and honored guests gathered at the podium in the end of the room. Hazel was invited to sit with them, but she politely declined, stating that she has done little to deserve the honor and would be perfectly comfortable in the crowd.

Severus Prince, as the guest lecturer, was of course seated at the podium.

“Welcome, welcome, my friends,” Alexandra Bonham began her speech and all noise stopped in the room. “My esteemed colleagues, dedicated to helping those in need, to the noble craft of healing. Welcome to the supporters of our charity fund. Welcome to the two hundred thirty second Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball! My special welcome to the staff of Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries! And especially warm welcome to the special guest lecturer tonight, Duke Severus Prince, who’s contributions to the healing and potions crafts were unimaginable just a few years prior. It is thanks to that research the healing of Dark Magic spell damage is no longer a hopeless cause! Thank you for joining us this evening.”

Alexandra Bonham applauded and the entire room joined her. Severus Prince raised stiffly and nodded to the crowd.

“We are thankful for all of you gathered her for your support of Saint Mungo’s Charity Fund, which aims to provide for all members of wizarding community regardless of their personal wealth and standing. We are grateful for without you, it would be impossible for us to afford giving out care to the most needy members of our society, nor would we be able to conduct research. I’d like to thank in particular for the contributions of Tiberius McLaggen, Giovanni Castello, Hazel Potter-Black, Valmai Morgan, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Damocles Belby…”

The names continued. It was basically who’s who of the Wizarding World. And of course, Tomar’s father had donated enough to be mentioned. Hazel had never met Giovanni Castello, but if he was anything like his son, she doubted she would have liked him.

“Thank you all for your generous contribution to the Hospital and to our research!” Alexandra Bohnam finished. “Now, let’s give a warm welcome to Duke Severus Prince, who will give a lecture on the preventing and healing long term damage from the Cruciatus Curse!”

The room broke out in the applause once more, as Severus Prince walked up to the podium.

“Thank you,” he said. “The long term damage from the exposure to the Cruciatus Curse had long had debilitating effects on the person subjected to the curse. It rapidly shortens life spans of wizards and renders them unable to function in the later stages of the disorder. In the recent decades especially, the number of cases of the post-Cruciatus damage had rapidly increased in the wake of the war with Lord Voldemort.”

Hazel was surprised to hear Severus speak the name. He had never done so before, and even now he stuck to the moniker The Dark Lord most of the time. 

“The effects of the curse have long been observed and are especially damaging in the wizards and witches who have been subjected to it in their early twenties to mid fifties, typically shortening their life spans by five to six decades. The victims suffer progressively worse, incurable nerve damage. This results in tremors, chronic pain, inability to control muscles, loss of feeling, paralysis and eventual death.”

“The post-Cruciatus disorder affects disproportionately the front line soldiers, aurors, hit wizards, however due to the events of the war, has been noted increasingly in the entire population of wizards between thirty to fifty years old, who were involved in the fighting since the late sixties and the seventies. Research shows that the life span of that entire generation may be shortened of as much as a quarter of overall life expectancy on average as a result of Dark Magic exposure in general, and the post-Cruciatus’ effects in specific.”

“To that effect, I have researched over the last twenty years an effective counter measures to the development of the disease. This lead me to work more on a prevention than the cure itself, as the massive nerve failure, usually observed in the victims, seems unlikely to be cured especially in the latter stages.”

“The prevention has been mostly tested on, well…, Death Eaters, who had been subjected to the curse during their servitude to the Lord Voldemort on average at least 1.67 times a month over the course of many years. The groups I have used were one to five years, five to ten years and ten to fifteen years of servitude. That is due to the fact that I have started my research while being a spy on the Lord Voldemort’s forces in the 1976, at the time the recruitment of Death Eaters have rapidly increased.”

_Damn, he was sixteen at the time, and already making major discoveries_ , thought Hazel. _Also, not a spy yet, but who cared about such details._

“The first group of Death Eaters consisted of the supporters aged from fifteen to twenty five, who had joined around the years 1975-1976 and has given the most promising results, as they had been put on the first regimen in the late 1976 to early 1977. The nerve damage in the other two groups was already quite substantial at the time and their results in the following the regimen were significantly lower. The results also varied significantly between those who were sentenced to Azkaban in the trials of 1982 to 1983 and those who remained free. That is due to the lack of access to medical care and potions in the Azkaban prison.”

“In the Death Eaters sentenced to Azkaban in the trials of 1998 till today or those who died during the war, the nerve damage has been stemmed off on average by 16.34 years, which predicts notably longer life spans to date. That is inclusive of the repeated exposure in the years 1995-1998. As those Death Eaters also benefit from increased access to health care while in Azkaban, the expectations are that by following the regimen they will further stem off the development of the nerve damage by additional 10 to 15 years.”

“In addition, the progress of the nerve damage had been significantly slower, even in the groups two and three, stemming off the effects for 8.2 years and 6.1 years respectively. According to the current results, it is expected that will on average have their life span extended by 25 to 30 years in group one, 17 to 22 in group two and 10 to 15 in group three.”

“As the adjustments and additions to the regiment have gotten progressively better over the years of the research, the current expectation is extending victims life span on average by 32 to 35 years.”

“The effects of the regimen are increasing on average by 0.64% for one exposure less, which should yield even better results in aurors and hit wizards, who were exposed to the Cruciatus Curse significantly fewer times.”

This was actually much better than Hazel expected. It seemed that the nerve damage, while not curable, should be almost completely preventable.

“The first groups of aurors, hit wizards and members of the Order of the Phoenix have been already included in the regimen, as necessary.”

Hazel, herself, had been a part of that since November of 1998. Prince had gathered every Order member and offered them the regimen. Most declined, but Hazel had been subjected to the Cruciatus multiple times and wasn’t stupid enough to refuse. Her nerve damage wasn’t that significant, certainly nowhere near the Death Eaters’s levels, but it was still there. Her current projections according to the Saint Mungo’s healers were pretty much no life span reduction due to the curse and she was already taken off of the potions part of the cure.

“The regimen itself relies heavily on two parts - immediate assistance post the exposure and long term prevention. The immediate assistance relies heavily on a potion which sooths the majority of the damage, which was available in the first iteration in the late 1976. Primary goal of this potion is warming and relaxation of the muscles in the body, mild pain killer and sleeping aid. That is due to rigidity of the muscles in post exposure, which increases the nerve damage in the victims.”

“The following weeks, months and years are crucial to the success of the prevention and stemming of the degeneration of the nerves. That part of the regimen is two folds: potions to prevent the nerve degeneration and daily physical exercise. Another major factor is a well balanced diet and limited alcohol consumption.” 

That part Hazel knew quite well. Prince went over the specifics of the potions he developed and the schedule that had given the best results, and the variation depending on the severity and frequencies of exposure, before closing his speech.

“As it is, the worst effects of the post-Curciatus disease can be stemmed off with significantly decreased reduction in life span in most victims and an increased quality of life for the latter stages of the disorder. Thank you very much.”

The applause was tremendous.

“Damn, he is so brilliant,” muttered Blair from behind her.

“Thank you, Duke Prince, for that inspiring talk,” Alexandra Bonham shook Severus’ hand. “Please, my dear guest, enjoy your meal. The band will start playing in one and half hours.”

The dinner went by quickly, the conversation mostly focused on the research.

“I don’t understand why he didn’t publish his treatment after the first war,” Morgan chimed. “It would help hundreds who were affected during the first war.”

“Nobody would publish him at a time. A lot of people believed he lied to Albus Dumbledore to get out of Azkaban and was still a loyal Death Eater,” Hermione explained.

“So what? Why shouldn’t we take advantage of such an invention because of he was a Death Eater? We should have rather taken everything he’s done, if he were and use it to our own benefit.”

“Wars usually don’t work like that,” said Tomar condescendingly. “The Ministry hated him back then. And when Fudge became a Minister, he pretty much wanted to destroy every mention of Death Eaters and paint them as savages only.”

“And yet, he took money from Lucius Malfoy like it was water,” muttered Neville.

“Never said he wasn’t corrupt,” answered Tomar. “Nevertheless, burying everything good the Death Eaters had done out of pure spite makes sense. Happens after every war.”

“It doesn’t actually,” countered Hermione. “The Muggles have taken quite a bit of research from the Nazis, including how to treat the hypothermia. It was studied in the horrific conditions in the concentration camps, killing the prisoners, but every Muggle doctor will use the techniques based on that these days. They invented methadone, which is a Muggle pain killer. Not to mention a slew of military inventions like rockets, helicopters, jerry-cans, jet-powered fighter plane, world’s first commercial computer and so on. All of this, while ethically dubious, had happened after the Second World War.”

“I am talking about wizarding wars,” muttered Tomar.

“I don’t see much of a distinction. If the research was used twenty years ago, it would have saved a lot of lives,” answered Hermione. “Especially, since Severus Prince was a spy and the ethical barriers are significantly lower. He did not experiment on unwilling victims. The Death Eaters needed the cure much more than we do.”

“Probably,” Tomar agreed. “But is wasn’t published. No point in dwelling on the past.”

_No point for you_ , thought Hazel. _After all none of your family participated._

Their group moved on to the ballroom, as they music was starting. Hazel noticed Severus walking in as well with the Alexandra Bonham, her husband and other Head Healers for different wards of Saint Mungo.

Neville and Hannah immediately joined the gathering crowd at the dance floor, and Tomar asked Hazel if she would dance with him. Having little choice if she didn’t want to offend the annoying boy, she agreed.

“Why do you pursue healing?” he asked, once they made it to the floor.

“Same reasons why everyone else does. To have a good career and to help people.”

“But you don’t need a career,” he answered, a little stunned. “You are the heir of Potter and Black houses. If anything you should join the Wizengamot, study law, or business.”

“Or marry,” muttered Hazel.

“Well, yes.”

“Not interested in being a trophy wife,” she snapped, which only seemed to confuse him more.

“Ok,” he muttered. “But still, you should go into politics or business, not healing…”

“I happen to like healing and the goblins are taking care of my fortune for me.”

Tomar grimaced at that.

“The goblins? You trust them with your investments?”

“Of course, they are the bankers of the entire Wizarding World. They must be doing something right.”

“But they are non-humans.”

“I don’t particularly care about that.”

“So… you aren’t going to marry and have kids, are you?”

“No, of course, not. I will marry and have kids, but when I want to and to whom I want to, regardless of their status or money or power.”

Tomar kept silent after that, and Thomas Yeats was the next person who danced with Hazel. That conversation did not go any better, her colleague trying to ask her about the war and fighting Death Eaters.

Finally, she managed to escape both of them and join the girls in a more secluded corner.

“Morgan tried to approach Prince, but apparently her courage left her when he glared at her,” Hermione informed her, amusement clear in her voice.

Hazel chuckled.

“I can see that.”

Morgan was apparently heart broken.

“Told you so,” sang Hermione.

“Don’t remind her. Nobody likes that, Mione.”

“Oh, please, because you two have enough bravery to approach him.”

“I have no interest in dancing with Severus Prince,” answered Hermione. “No matter how roguishly handsome you think he is. And I don’t think he actually dances.”

Everybody looked at Hazel expectantly. She could see challenge from Blair and Morgan.

“Yes?”

“I won’t do it either, will you?”

“Ask Severus Prince to dance with me? I thought you wanted to dance with him, Morgan.”

“I knew it. Gryffindors, alright. All talk,” Blair said dismissively.

Hazel thought she had managed to temper her worst Gryffindorish traits, but it appeared that a challenge to her bravery still couldn’t go unanswered. Not that it would be as big of a challenge as Morgan and Blair thought.

She turned around and spied Severus hiding in the corner on the opposite side of the room.

Thankfully, she managed to walk through the room with only minimal amount of disturbance.

“Lady Potter-Black,” Severus bowed his head, as she approached him.

“Duke Prince,” she curtsied as Andromeda taught her.

Hazel’s title was technically Countess, but she would only inherit it on her twenty fifth birthday or in the event of a marriage. Until then the wizarding nobility referred to her as Lady, as in daughter of a Count. The titles had a slightly different meaning in the Wizarding World than among Muggles. They were heredity titles, which were granted to the ruling council after Statue of Secrecy was implemented. Duke was the highest granted to the twenty senior families, which were an executive branch at the time. The less polite, more cynical crowd called them _the Cursed Princes of the Wizarding World_. Other, lower titles were granted to the members of Wizengamot, and some were hereditary ones from before the Statue of Secrecy.

Dukes, Counts, Viscounts and Barons all had seats in the Wizengamot even now. Lower titles had a number of elected places, but Hazel couldn’t remember how many.

“Is your brainless friend the reason you came to speak to me?” he inquired.

“Yes,” admitted Hazel. “She wanted to dance with you, but you are apparently to intimidating to ask.”

Severus snorted.

“Thank Sytherin for that.”

“Well, unfortunately, you will have to dance with me now.”

“And why is that, Lady Potter-Black?”

“Because she thought I wasn’t brave enough to ask you,” Hazel grinned mischievously at him.

“And, of course, your Gryffindor honor could not be satisfied once she issued the challenge,” he concluded.

“Pretty much,” agreed Hazel easily.

“Why do I have to suffer due to you being thickheaded?”

“I resent that. Dancing with me is no longer suffering,” Hazel responded in mock offense. “You cannot imagine how long it took Andromeda to teach me! That was suffering.”

“I have seen the improvement,” sighed Severus, extending his hand to her.

Hazel took it and he lead them to the dancing floor.

“If you smile, we might make it to the front page,” Hazel teased.

“If I smile, Minerva will commit me to Janus Thickey Ward.”

“Morgan is really disappointed that she didn’t get to dance with you,” Hazel teased him as they started dancing. “She was talking about it since the beginning of the ball.”

“Is Morgan the blond girl in blue dress?” 

Hazel nodded.

“You glared at her.”

“I do not dance.”

“And what are we doing now?”

“Allow me to correct myself. I do not dance with silly girls who have little to no idea of who I am.”

“I am glad you don’t count me among those numbers. You are really rather good at dancing,” she responded as Severus lead her through a series of complicated steps with ease.

“Comes with being taught by Julius Prince.”

“You were really brilliant up there. Your talk was very detailed and interesting,” Hazel said after a few moments of silence. “You should hear some of my friends. They think you are Merlin’s gift to the Wizarding World.”

“I thought that title was already claimed by you,” Severus deadpanned.

“Hilarious,” Hazel muttered. “You forget that I have been treated with your potions since I was eleven.”

“I do not, trust me. I have not only monitored your health, but also slipped potions into your pumpkin juice.”

“You slipped potions into my pumpkin juice?” Hazel asked incredulously and Severus looked at her as if she really was thickheaded.

“Of course. I couldn’t have been seen giving you any. Don’t worry, Poppy noted everything in your file after the war.”

“I am really glad you were on our side the whole time. Otherwise, we would all be dead,” Hazel huffed irritated.

“As am I. And if the Dark Lord wasn’t so obsessed with killing you himself, I would be Nagini’s dinner anyway.”

“You still ended up almost being one,” Hazel’s eyes move to the scars on Severus’ neck.

He almost died for her and she thought him a traitor. She wondered if the scars were still tender and for a second really wanted to touch them. She couldn't really remember what they felt like.

Severus had obviously recognized the look on Hazel’s face, because his next words were a response to her unasked question.

“We really shouldn’t. It would be… a mistake.”

“Why?” Hazel asked.

“You are young, rich and famous. You have a number of suitors, who are much more suitable for you. I have seen you dancing with some today.”

“Suitors,” she scoffed. “I only danced with them, because Andromeda says it’s impolite to refuse. They are lucky my fist did not connect with their faces.”

Severus chuckled.

“Definitely front page material. I do hope you will at least wait until the guests are much less sober,” he commented. “What terrible offenses have they committed to deserve your wrath?”

“It’s not wrath, just irritation. The first one is a snob, who had implied, just as Ron did, that I am wasting my time becoming a healer and not marrying. Although, he was much more tactful than Ron. The second asked me how much fun it was to fight and kill Death Eaters. If you think those are suitable suitors, _I_ will commit you to Janus Thickey Ward.”

“Perhaps not the best examples,” Severus agreed.

“Most of them are like that. Not to mention bigots and cowards.”

“My apologies on behalf of male population for such inadequacy.”

Hazel chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“I never claimed you were inadequate,” she smiled at him shyly.

“Hazel,” Severus said rather sternly.

“Severus.”

He lead her to the edge of the dance floor.

“Thank you, Lady Potter-Black for honoring with this dance,” he muttered as he bowed lightly.

“Are you ever going to drop the _Lady_ thing?”

To her delight, he twitched, his cheeks coloring lightly.

“When you become a Countess,” he gathered himself and walked off, disappearing into the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * According to this site: https://www.askdifference.com/priest-vs-reverend/  
> "The main difference between Priest and Reverend is that the Priest is a person authorized to lead the sacred rituals of a religion and Reverend is a Christian religious title."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit late this week. Sorry, guys. I have been replaying the Witcher 3 since the quarantine started (mostly self-imposed still, thankfully I can actually leave my house at this point). And that game is massive... 
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you enjoy this. It's even a bit longer than usually (I guess you may consider that a late bonus).
> 
> Let me know, what you think!
> 
> Cheers,  
> L

The dinner at the Wests’ household was always a noisy affair. It was mostly due to the kids sitting at the table with them. It would be unthinkable in a pureblood home, but from what Severus knew Marcus put his foot down. He refused to send his kids away.

It was rather admirable position in Severus’ opinion. Both, because he had to suffer the noise and incessant questions from the kids, and because the kids would probably grow up much better adjusted than the heirs of the other business or political empires Severus had the displeasure of teaching for twenty years.

“Uncle Sev, uncle Sev?!”

“Yes, Demetria?” Severus sighed and looked down at a little girl clutching his hand. He grabbed the child and put her on her knees.

“Is it true that you went to a ball?” she asked.

“Yes, I have indeed, unfortunately, attended one such prestigious event two weeks ago.”

“Wow,” she breathed wide eyed. “Did you meet a princess at the ball?”

“You could say that,” Severus nodded solemnly. “I have met Hazel Potter. She is to be a countess in a few years.”

“You met Hazel!” the child looked at him with his eyes full of wonder.

It was a safe bet that any child would be fascinated by a story about Hazel Potter.

“Yes, I have met Hazel there.”

“Is she as brave as Alvin says? Did she really fight an army on her own? Did she really kill the bad Dark Lord?” An array of questions flew from the child’s mouth.

“Almost on her own. She only had a couple of friends with her. And she did duel the Dark Lord and won.”

That was a gross over-exaggeration, but the child could have picked worse people to admire.

“Have you been there, Uncle Sev?” Demetria asked.

“Yes, I have. I fought as well.”

“Is that where you got the scars? Alvin says a snake bit you.”

Well, that made it clear who put up the girl to ask all those questions. Alvin was the oldest of the three children and by far the most inquisitive. Fortunately, he was also a bit intimidated by Severus. That did not stop him from egging his sister on to ask questions. The little girl was definitely going to be Gryffindor, for she cared naught for his stern manner.

“It did. Its name was Nagini, but it is dead now. I think Neville Longbottom killed her.”

The details of the battle after he was bit, escaped him. He heard the stories, but at the time was in way too much pain to pay attention properly.

“Do you know him too?”

“Yes, I had the displeasure of teaching him at Hogwarts.”

“Alvin says he is a brave knight.”

“Brave? Certainly. All Gryffindors are brave to the point of stupidity.”

“Are you a brave knight too, Uncle Sev?”

“Severus is the bravest of them all. At least according to Hazel Potter,” Marcus answered his child, entering the room. “Now, Demetria, run along to play with your brothers. I have no doubt they expect a through report on your investigation.”

“Yes, papa!”

The girl kissed Severus on the cheek, jumped down from his knees and ran out of the room in search of her mischievous siblings.

“Severus Prince at the mercy of a five year old girl. It never gets old,” Marcus laughed.

Severus glared at him. It was all his fault anyway. Marcus had left him in the living room to search for his wife.

“Would you like some whiskey before dinner?” the man offered.

“No, thank you. I have already drunk my fill this month.”

“Ah, of course, you are not really allowed to drink spirits anymore.”

“Technically, I am not allowed to drink at all, but I am not going to suffer the Ministry Ball sober.”

“I still bet you were one of the least drunk people there. You never seem to drink more than a couple of glasses.”

“A drunk spy is a dead spy. Occlumency wards do not go together with intoxication of any kind.” 

“You are paranoid.”

“Yes, but just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.”

“ _Catch-22_.”

“Indeed.”

“So how are you, my friend? How have you survived the meeting of the illustrious Order of the Phoenix?”

“Barely. I haven’t gotten into a fight, which is a bare minimum.”

Well, in actuality, Hazel and he left fairly quickly. The time he had spent there went about as well as expected.

“Always so positive, my dear friend. How are you not the life of the party I will never know.”

It was really rather unfortunate that Marcus remembered him from Hogwarts, for he was immune to his most deathly glares.

“Thank you for being patient with Demetria.”

“Contrary to the popular opinion I do not in fact eat the hearts of little children for breakfast.” 

“Yes, but she is in that stage when she continuously asks questions. She is my child and I cannot stand it for a long period of time. And Alvin and Justus just keep goading her into it.”

“The joys of having children. At times like these I am glad to be a bachelor. Should have thought a bit more before having three, perhaps?” offered Severus.

Marcus glared at him.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you sometimes.”

“Self-flagellation?”

“Bloody smart-ass.” 

“How’s the book coming along?”

“They are editing. It will still take a while, Severus. You know this. You should start writing the next one.”

“ _Subversive Offensive Techniques_ , perhaps?”

Marcus slapped his hand to his own chest.

“Dear Merlin and Morgana, have you finally learned the importance of titles?” he asked dramatically.

“No, but it is supposed to be a continuation of _Subversive Defensive Techniques_ , so it seems right.”

“Will miracles never end? I think that would be a marvelous next sell,” Marcus said. “When can I expect a manuscript?”

“Give me at least six months, would you? I have the material, of course, but I do have to actually write it!” 

The rest of the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Marcus’ wife.

“Marcus, dear, I do hope you are not talking shop with Severus. You know you are not allowed to do so, when he comes to dinner!” Anestasia scolded her husband.

“Sorry, my love,” he answered.

“Anestasia, lovely to see you again,” Severus stood up and kissed her offered hand.

“And you too, Severus. You must come more often.”

“Alas, your husband needs books to sell, otherwise I would be honored to be your guest.”

“Unfortunate,” Anestasia sighed. “Come, the dinner is ready.”

The dinner was, as always, delicious. The children were rambling and asking him multitude of questions. Especially Demetria. Most of them focused on Hazel.

_ Was she pretty? Did she like dolls? Did she play Quidditch?  _

And so on and so forth. Severus answered all of them with an amount of patience that he didn’t think he possessed. Yet, Hazel wasn’t known for giving a lot of interviews or meeting with her fans, and the children likely didn’t have any other source of information about her. 

Finally, after the dessert, the children were sent off to play.

“So, tell me, really, Severus. Did the people at the Crawleys were really Death Eaters?” Anestasia asked straight off the bat.

“Hazel Potter seems to think so,” he answered easily. “And I have learned to trust her in such matters. She would not cast baseless accusations at anyone. Personally, I have not known them or worked with them, but that means little in such a large, secretive organization.”

Anestasia nodded gravely.

“Is it revenge killing then?”

“If I were a betting man, I would venture a guess that it was one,” Severus admitted slowly.

He was a betting man. He wagered everything on Hazel Potter-Black against the Dark Lord. And the odds were... terrible at the time.

“I had hoped the death of You Know Who would have been the end of this,” muttered Marcus.

“There are still a lot of Death Eaters that went free,” Severus disagreed.

“The Ministry is a mess. It has been a mess since the first war. Cornelius Fudge was an idiot who only increased the chaos within the departments and I have no idea how he got elected so many times.”

“A stroke of luck and absence of better candidates. After Bartemius Crouch’s son was revealed to be a Death Eater, there was pretty much no one else to take on the mantle of a Minister.”

It was a shame to be honest that Crouch never became the Minister. Sure, Severs hated him with passion, and Crouch despised him as well, but there was no denying that the man was competent. If he became the Minister in the early 80s, maybe they wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. Severus thought it unlikely that Crouch would ever stop looking for Death Eaters and the Dark Lord the way Fudge did. And he certainly seemed incorruptible. His hatred and disdain for everything connected to Dark Magic would prevent him from taking the money from people like Lucius.

“I actually quite like Shacklebolt. He seems like a decent fellow and is trying to fix things, but I fear that undoing this whole mess is going to take a lot more than one man,” Anestasia mused.

“Shacklebolt isn’t bad. He was my choice for taking over. First of all, he is unlikely to succumb to bribery,” Severus admitted. “Unfortunately, you are right - the rest of the Ministry is quite the opposite. And it used to be a prime recruiting target for the Dark Lord. After all, the Ministry is said to employ the most talented wizards in Great Britain. I have my own opinion on that…”

“Yes, but you think almost everyone is an incompetent fool,” Marcus said. “I fear that his efforts are quite in vain.”

“You would need much more trustworthy people in critical places,” Anestasia muttered. “Most of the Order decided against joining the Ministry after the war.”

“The Order did not fight for power. They have not been interested in being part of it. It was likely a major error immediately post war, but you cannot just force people who fought most of their lives to keep on going. I would not do it, if they offered me the moon, which incidentally they almost did. I’ve done my part. I have no interest in spending the rest of my life fixing the damned society, if it cannot be bothered to improve itself.”

“It does however present a problem of how to get trustworthy people in the places of power,” pointed out Marcus.

“Sure, but I wouldn’t trust Order members with positions of power anyway.”

“You have fought with them!” protested Anestasia.

“And they are very good warriors, but most of them are not made for bureaucratic positions. Or power. Would you really trust a bunch of twenty-year-olds with leading the Wizarding World? Most older members are dead.”

“Probably not,” admitted Marcus.

“The Order is just as much a revolutionary organization as Death Eaters were. It never works out if you put revolutionaries in power.”

“Then what would be a good solution to that problem?”

“I am not a politician, Anestasia,” Severus shrugged. “Not my problem either.”

***

It was always a great honor to be selected for speech at the Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball, so Severus did it. The problem was that being a guest of honor meant that he couldn’t simply slip away after his speech. Oh, no, no, Alexandra Bonham had managed to extract a promise out of him that he would stay and endure the sycophants until at least midnight.

The first two hours weren’t too bad. A lot of Healers and Potion Masters have approached him to talk shop. Unfortunately, it had gotten progressively worse as more and more of them had succumbed to the delights of wine and spirits served at the ball.

Now, Severus’ main occupation was avoiding women and girls, who wished to engage him in a conversation. It was not exactly easy. His reputation had protected him for many years, but now, that he was hailed a hero, they were bloody unavoidable. Even his growl and menacing stares weren’t working for the braver ones anymore.

Even one of Hazel’s brainless friends had tried to approach him. Severus didn’t know the girl, which meant she wasn’t a Hogwarts’ graduate, but he had seen her in a group of students from the MUL.

Suddenly, there was a bit of a commotion on the other side of the room, where most of the MUL students were socializing. Hazel Potter emerged and walked with purpose straight towards him.

“Lady Potter-Black,” he greeted her formally as she approached. Whatever half-brained plan she had in mind, Severus was doubtlessly going to be its victim.

“Duke Prince,” she curtsied quite gracefully.

He looked her up and down. She looked very fetching in a green dress, with appropriate jewelry. Every inch a future countess.

“Is your brainless friend the reason you came to speak to me?” he inquired snidely.

“Yes,” Hazel admitted. “She wanted to dance with you, but you are apparently to intimidating to ask.”

Severus snorted.

“Thank Sytherin for that.”

If he wasn’t, they wouldn’t give him a break and he would have to suffer a bunch of foolish girls, who imagined him being Prince Charming or something. He already had to suffer the braver ones. Or the stupider ones. They asked ridiculously stupid questions and tried to (poorly) charm him.

“Well, unfortunately, you will have to dance with me now,” Hazel explained.

“And why is that, Lady Potter-Black?”

Not that he minded too much. Hazel had significantly improved in her dancing since her fourth year Christmas Ball and at least she wouldn’t pester him with incessant rambling. Or try to charm him.

_Maybe because she has already won that round_ , mocked Lucius' voice inside his head.

“Because she thought I wasn’t brave enough to ask you,” the woman grinned mischievously at him.

“And, of course, your Gryffindor honor could not be satisfied once she issued the challenge,” he concluded.

Gryffindors. So easy to goad.

“Pretty much,” agreed Hazel without sounding at all sorry or ashamed.

“Why do I have to suffer due to you being thickheaded?”

The answer she gave was one Severus did not expect. He supposed she would be offended, but her tone was one of mockery.

“I resent that. Dancing with me is no longer suffering. You cannot imagine how long it took Andromeda to teach me! That was suffering.”

“I have seen the improvement,” admitted Severus, extending his hand to her.

It seemed he just couldn’t pull her strings anymore. She turned all his expectations upside down. 

Hazel took his offered hand and he lead them to the dance floor.

“If you smile, we might make it to the front page.”

Damn, but she was bold.

“If I smile, Minerva will commit me to Janus Thickey Ward.”

Minerva probably would have, if she knew he slept with his former student.

“Morgan is really disappointed that she didn’t get to dance with you,” the woman’s tone was that of gentle mockery. “She was talking about it since the beginning of the ball.”

“Is Morgan the blond girl in blue dress?” 

Hazel nodded.

“You glared at her,” she explained.

“I do not dance.”

“And what are we doing now?”

“Allow me to correct myself. I do not dance with silly girls who have little to no idea of who I am.”

“I am glad you don’t count me among those numbers. You are really rather good at dancing.” 

Severus did know how to dance well. His grandfather, Julius Prince, had made certain of it, as soon as he had taken over his custody. It was one of the few things that Severus didn’t mind being taught. The problem was he rarely found a partner he had enjoyed dancing with.

“Comes with being taught by Julius Prince.”

“You were really brilliant up there,” Hazel commented after a few moments of silence. “Your talk was very detailed and interesting. You should hear some of my friends. They think you are Merlin’s gift to the Wizarding World.”

A complement and mockery in the same breath. Severus might have actually taught her something during her years at Hogwarts.

“I thought that title was already claimed by you,” he deadpanned.

“Hilarious. You forget that I have been treated with your potions since I was eleven.” Was that a slight note of admiration in her voice? Respect for sure, but it seemed a bit more than that. 

“I do not, trust me. I have not only monitored your health, but also slipped potions into your pumpkin juice.”

“You slipped potions into my pumpkin juice?” Hazel asked incredulously.

Severus fixed her with a gaze. One stupid question, but he supposed he deserved that particular one.

“Of course. I couldn’t have been seen giving you any. Don’t worry, Poppy noted everything in your file after the war.”

“I am really glad you were on our side the whole time. Otherwise, we would all be dead,” Hazel huffed.

_Small victories, Severus_ , he thought to himself as he watched the irritation clear on her face.

“As am I. And if the Dark Lord wasn’t so obsessed with killing you himself, I would be Nagini’s dinner anyway.”

“You still ended up almost being one,” Hazel’s eyes moved to his scars and softened. He could read a bit of sadness and gentleness in them, as she cataloged the web of angry marks. 

_The proof that we made it_ , she called them. It was in a way. It was also a reminder of all the evil that happened to them.

Hazel looked for a second as if she wanted to caress his damned scars. 

“We really shouldn’t. It would be… a mistake,” he said gently. It would be. They really, really shouldn’t have gotten involved to this degree and continuing would likely end up bad for both of them.

“Why?” Hazel asked.

It was bloody obvious, but Hazel purposefully didn’t want to understand.

“You are young, rich and famous. You have a number of suitors, who are much more suitable for you. I have seen you dancing with some today.”

“Suitors,” she scoffed. “I only danced with them, because Andromeda says it’s impolite to refuse. They are lucky my fist did not connect with their faces.”

He would probably pay to see that. He taught a number of Hazel’s suitors and knew them enough to know they were spoiled children.

“I hope you will at least wait until the guests are much less sober,” he commented. At least then, they might not notice the brawl. “What terrible offenses have they committed to deserve your wrath?”

“It’s not wrath, just irritation. The first one is a snob, who had implied, just as Ron did, that I am wasting my time becoming a healer and not marrying. Although, he was much more tactful than Ron. The second asked me how much fun it was to fight and kill Death Eaters. If you think those are suitable suitors, _I_ will commit you to Janus Thickey Ward.”

“Perhaps not the best examples,” Severus agreed. Had he be in Hazel’s shoes, he might have been tempted to hit them too.

“Most of them are like that. Not to mention bigots and cowards.”

“My apologies on behalf of male population for such inadequacy,” he offered mock apology.

Hazel chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“I never claimed you were inadequate,” she smiled at him shyly.

“Hazel,” it was a bad idea. Very bad.

“Severus,” she matched his tone, so he lead her to the edge of the dance floor. It was probably time to finish the dance anyway. It must have been one song already and it would be in their best interests not to end up on the Prophet’s front page.

“Thank you, Lady Potter-Black for honoring me with this dance,” he muttered as he bowed lightly.

“Are you ever going to drop the Lady thing?” she asked teasingly.

So, she did figure out that he would revert to formal manners, whenever she made him feel uncomfortable and awkward in a public setting.

“When you are a Countess,” Severus somehow managed to regain his composure. 

_That woman is making me lose it all to often_ , he thought as walked into the crowd looking for a place to hide.

***  
  


“My, my, Severus, dancing three songs with our illustrious hero - The Girl Who Conquered. I think there isn’t a man under fifty in this room that isn’t jealous of you right now. No one got more than one out of her, and sometimes not even that,” Severus heard the voice of Damocles Belby, a fellow Potion Master, behind him. 

Severus turned to see a damned group of his peers. Miguel Rodriquez, Spanish-born Halfblood Potion Master and Jeremy Hill’s lover, Jeremy Hill, himself, Damocles Belby, Horace Slughorn, Herbert Speel, a healer and professor at the MUL and Matilda McLauglin, head of Potions’ department in Saint Mungo’s were all standing there. 

“There is few here who fought a war with her as well,” retorted Severus. “But then again you were too busy hiding, one would presume.”

Was it really three songs? He hadn’t noticed.

“Yes, well, you don’t usually expect Healers to fight in a war, nor Potion Masters, to be fair,” said Jeremy conciliatory. “And Severus had known Lady Potter-Black for quite a long time.”

“True, true, don’t worry, my friend,” Damocles clapped Severus on his back. “I was joking.”

“Poorly,” added Miguel Rodriguez.

“Unsurprising lack of inspiration from you, Damocles,” Severus snapped.

“Perhaps,” Damocles acknowledged. “It was more of a comment on how Lady Potter-Black doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to marry, rather pursuing her education. I had always been in favor of educated woman, like Matilda here. Otherwise, they are _so_ boring,” he finished with a sigh.

“Dear Merlin, Damocles, you really need to get rid of your casual sexism,” Matilda snapped at him. “No wonder you are not married.”

“I am,” protested Damocles. “To my potions!”

That prompted some laughs from the group.

“The only marriage you ever have a chance to have, given your attitude,” Matilda scolded him.

“I am a Pureblood, Til. And a progressive one at that. Most would claim that Hazel Potter-Black should marry and start producing heirs. I, at least, support her right not to.”

“Yes, a major step for witches everywhere - Damocles Belby allows us to gain education!” Andromeda Tonks joined the group. 

“Come on, Andy, you know how it is - the expectations of Pureblood parents! My father is still mentioning I should marry at least twice in every conversation. I am actually quite jealous of Lady Potter-Black. Had the other Blacks still lived, she would be married off two years ago. With or without the girl’s approval.”

“I do know. Got myself disowned breaking a marriage contract.”

“Turned out for the best. Otherwise you would have a husband in Azkaban,” joked Herbert.

“I think it may be for the best, if the girl finishes her education and works like a Halfblood or a Muggleborn. It might just give the kick to the more progressive families to send the girls to the university as well,” said Matilda. “Might start a new trend among Purebloods.”

“Might or might not. She is not exactly a darling of Pureblood society,” pointed out Damocles. “What do you think, Horace, Severus, Andy? You do know her best.”

“Hazel was always a brilliant student,” Slughorn gushed enthusiastically. “I am glad she has chosen to pursue her academic interests! She will go far, I am sure.”

“She already had gone far,” pointed out Andromeda. “She will not allow society or a husband to dictate her choices in life.”

“Quite true, quite true, my dear friend,” Horace concurred. “Spirited, strong-willed that’s what she is.”

“More like stubborn beyond all reason,” muttered Severus.

“She is doing quite well in her classes - definitely one of the top students in her year,” Herbert said. “I taught her this past term. Always well prepared for her classes. I have no doubt she will ace her exams.”

“That she is,” agreed Horace. “No wonder, since Severus taught her for six years, a protege of yours, isn’t she?”

Severus snorted.

“Hardly, Horace.”

“Ah, you’re too humble.”

“Not really. I am fairly positive that she had really wished to curse me more times than not during my tenure at Hogwarts. Spying duties, you understand, prevented us from ever being anything other than enemies,” perhaps that would shut Horace and the rest of the gossipers up. “Until the end of the war that is.” 

“Ah, of course,” muttered Herbert. “I must say, Severus, that it is something of a wonder, the things you were up to these past twenty years. Spying, fighting a war, teaching and producing groundbreaking research at the same time. You are a marvel.”

“Thanks,” muttered Severus. He had slowly grown fed up with the bloody gossipers. “If you excuse me.”

“Of course, of course, my friend. We will see you later.”

***

After managing to leave the group of gossipers behind him, Severus ventured to find Alexandra Bonham.

“Duke Prince,” she was standing with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was, of course, in attendance. “How are you enjoying yourself?”

“Splendidly, Madam Bonham” he lied blatantly. “Kingsley,” he nodded to the Minister, who returned the gesture.

“I am sure,” a note of amusement in her tone told him that she didn’t buy it for a second.

“I would like to thank you for inviting me, Madam,” he said formally.

“It is I, who should thank you, Your Grace. Your speech was very well done and it drew a crowd like we haven’t had in years. Since before the war really.”

“I am ecstatic to contribute to the noble cause,” his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“I might ask you to return next year. I have heard through grapevine that you have some more research ready for release.”

“And who might have given you that information?” he eyed her suspiciously.

“Ah, Your Grace, a lady never betrays her sources,” she smiled at him.

“Perhaps I will even agree, if we can cut down the time I am required to socialize,” Severus responded.

“Come on, Severus. It’s not that bad,” Kingsley interjected. “You are holed up Merlin knows where most of the year anyway. I barely see you. A couple of hours of human contact didn’t kill anyone yet.”

“That you know of. I might be the first.” Especially if he continued to consort with one Hazel Potter-Black. “No socializing is precisely the point of the secrecy surrounding my current accommodations. No fools to suffer, where I am holed up.”

“So antisocial, my dear Duke,” Alexandra laughed. “Eccentricity seems to go in pair with genius more often than not.”

Severus did not think of himself as eccentric. Damocles, he was one. Horace, for sure. Him? Not really.

“With Luck, we will see you next time in October, during the autumn season.”

Autumn season and spring season were two periods when balls, gathering and celebrations usually took place.

“With tiny bit of help from Lord Luck I will be unavailable then,” he growled.

“I am sure the gods aren’t that merciful, Severus,” chuckled Kingsley.

“No matter, you still have one hour that you promised me, Your Grace,” reminded him Madame Bonham.

“I remember,” he let out a long suffering sigh. 

Severus managed to excuse himself after a couple more minutes of idle conversation. He grabbed a glass of wine from a tray of a passing waiter and found a darkened, secluded corner to wait out the last hour.

The crowd was already much less sober than a couple of hours ago and Severus had no patience to socialize anymore. He would wait out the last hour and slip through before anyone else could approach him.

Severus sat for a couple of minutes, drinking his wine, observing the crowd.

He felt drained, like he rarely felt in the past. He was in a room full of people and yet he felt more alone than ever before. Severus was used to feeling alone. It was one of the first thing he remembered feeling in his childhood - loneliness. Always an outcast, at home, at Hogwarts, at his job, as a Death Eater. But now, for the first time, he was… popular. People wanted to talk to him, wanted his opinion, his advice. And yet, he felt more lonely than ever before. 

In the past, at least Lily was there at the beginning, than Lucius, and finally Albus. Now, there was an army of sycophants, a whole number of his peers. He was well respected, well received, people called him _Your Grace_ or _Master Prince_ instead of _you Death Eater scum_.

It was shallow. 

He raised his eyes and scanned the crowd once more. He wasn’t specifically looking for Hazel. Not after the dancing they had done before. At least he told himself he wasn’t, but there she was. Talking to some boy about her age. The guy was groomed to the extreme. Not one single hair out of place. Manicured fingernails, perfectly fitting suit.

Even from across the room Hazel looked mildly uncomfortable.

The young idiot touched her arm and she took a step back. Severus’ hand squeezed the glass. That little worthless idiot had no right to touch her, if she didn’t want it.

“She can handle herself,” he muttered to himself.

Obviously. Hazel Potter-Black had killed Snatchers, Death Eaters and one powerful Dark Lord. She wouldn’t need his help to dispose of a shallow poser, who would undoubtedly worry about breaking his nails.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, Hazel Potter-Black was somewhat of a mystery to Severus. That was surprising, as Severus could usually read Gryffindors like open books, play them for fools. Perhaps it was due to her inexplicable actions in the recent past that prompted that feeling.

The thing was that the sometimes-overwhelming-feeling of loneliness disappeared earlier when they danced. It disappeared when they ate breakfast together, when they talked at the Anniversary Ball.

Severus looked again towards Hazel and the boy. And again he could read her emotions from the distance. This time she shook from barely suppressed anger, tension evident in her posture. The idiot obviously had no idea, continuing to talk and gesture widely. 

He wondered if he should go and intervene before Hazel blasted the boy into the wall, but Hazel moved back and left the boy standing there, gaping.

_Moron_ , thought Severus to himself. 

His eyes followed her to the exit towards the bathrooms and garden exit.

He could go after her, talk a bit, feel better while he did, sooth the discomfort he was feeling, the crushing sense that no one in the room really knew him or wanted to know him.

Severus wanted to feel the peace, the quiet acceptance and understanding he felt every time he was with Hazel Potter-Black. And damn him, but he did so wish to sleep with her again.

“Blast it,” he muttered.

It was a mistake. Ridiculous really. The girl was half his age. She had no idea about life and anything.

S _he does have an idea, you fool. She is probably the only one who does have an idea of what it’s like_ , the voice in his head scolded him. This time it was his own.

He downed the rest of the wine in the glass and stalked across the room, keeping to the shadows, following Hazel’s earlier path.

She was rather easy to find. Severus had guessed correctly that she would seek refuge from the crowd in the gardens.

Hazel was standing in the middle of a small hedge maze, leaning against a fountain. It was quiet, empty, the guests drinking themselves into stupor inside.

Even so, he muttered a privacy spell. There was no point risking the conversation to be overheard.

“I do not care about your views, Castello! And I am not going to dance with you!” Hazel snapped, as she sensed him approaching.

“I do not care much about Castello’s views either,” he answered.

She spun around surprised, as he stepped towards her.

“Severus, I am sorry for snapping. I thought it was Tomar again.”

“I gathered,” he muttered softly. He watched her as anger and surprise melted away. “I could feel the fury emanating from you from the other side of the room. Mildly surprising the room didn’t explode.”

“Tomar Castello is a spoiled child,” she scowled.

“I am sure, his family has almost as much money as Blacks or Malfoys.”

She looked lovely in a green dress, matching subtle, silver earrings and necklace with diamonds and emeralds. It was almost a shame that she wasn’t a Slytherin. Almost.

“Severus?” she questioned him quietly. “Is there something wrong?”

Severus realized he was staring.

“No,” he said and held out his hand as if asking her to dance. She looked at him in confusion, but took his offered hand. “You shouldn’t get upset by whatever foolish claims he was spouting.”

He step closer, so close they were almost touching.

“I am not,” Hazel answered with a petulant scowl.

“I am sure,” Severus cupped her cheek with his free hand and brought his lips onto hers. He was gratified when she responded almost immediately.

They battled for dominance for a few seconds, and then Hazel relented.

“I thought you said it would be a mistake,” she muttered, as they broke apart.

“Probably,” Severus agreed, sneaking a hand around her waist and pulling her against him. “Luckily I have a long track of making the best out of my mistakes, if you wish it…” he finished a bit unsure of himself. He shouldn’t have presumed. 

“If I wish it,” she repeated, caressing his cheek lightly.

“Yes,” Severus nodded. 

“ _Idiot_ ,” she smiled at him. “One might think you knew the answer to that when we danced earlier.”

“One might,” he agreed, not really bothered by being called an idiot. He was in the process of doing one of the most foolish things he had ever attempted, so it seemed appropriate.

Hazel looked at him carefully, then shook her head, as if coming to a decision, and kissed him lightly.

“Yes, I do wish it, Sev’rus,” she said, cutting out the _e_ in his name. 

“Good.”

Severus squeezed Hazel’s hand and released it, bringing both of his arms around her, as he kissed her slowly and deeply, the feeling of loneliness long forgotten.

They stood there for a while, kissing behind Severus’ privacy ward. As the kisses grew heated and Severus’ hands ventured lower, Hazel broke the kiss.

“Your place or mine?” she asked.

“Yours,” Severus grimaced. “Mine is more of a… ruin.”

At that Hazel stepped back.

“You cannot tell me you are still living at the Spinner’s End,” she said frowning.

Severus blanched, surprised.

“How do you know my address?”

Hazel looked at him unimpressed.

“I went there with the Headmistress to help her when you were unconscious after the battle. To help with your defense and to find your things! That’s not the point! That place should be condemned! Don’t you have a manor or something? And money?” she asked scowling.

“I… do,” he agreed quietly. “However, its location is widely known, whereas my house…” he trailed off, not really knowing how to finish the sentence. How to explain.

Hazel’s gaze softened.

“My place, then,” she agreed, kissing him lightly.

“Just please, do tell me before apparating or using a portkey. The last two times, I almost had a heart attack,” he said grimacing at the memory. Or at least a panic attach, he added in his head. “A bit of forethought would have been appreciated.”

“Sorry,” she said, a blush staining her cheeks. “I should have thought before doing something like that.”

“It’s fine. Shall we?” Severus offered her his hand. The first time he wasn’t thinking properly either.

She took it.

“Yes. _Hero of war_ ,” she said and they were pulled into the portkey’s whirl.

As they hit Grimmauld Place’s living room, Severus steadied Hazel. It seemed she never quite managed to learn how to land properly when using a portkey. She pulled him toward her bedroom and he went without second thought.

As they reached it, he brought her again against him, claiming her mouth, while his hand managed to find the zipper of her dress. He tapped against it infusing his wish with magic and the zipper slid down seamlessly, the dress sliding down with it.

“I don’t know how you always manage to undress me so fast,” she whispered against his lips, as the dress hit the floor.

“Magic,” he answered as they broke apart once more, and her lips twitched. He was already hard, but seeing her half naked, only in high heels, stocking and panties made him almost painfully so. He had cataloged her body in that shower after the Order’s party, but he hadn’t expected its effect on him. She was lean, with full breast, her skin littered with scars. Somehow, those imperfections made her all the more… whole, real in his eyes.

His hands went almost without a conscious thought around her waist and he hoisted her up. She caught on, locking her tights around him and he laid them on the bed.

“Beautiful,” he whispered tracing an angry looking scar on her stomach. Hazel looked away at that, so he caught her chin and pulled her lightly back, so that she would have to look at him. “You are beautiful,” he repeated. “The proof we made it,” he repeated her own words back to her.

Hazel smiled at that.

“They are,” she echoed him.

And then suddenly the world spun and he was on his back and Hazel was on top of him, kissing the life out of him.

“You aren’t the only one with tricks…” he breathed into his ear, before biting it lightly.

For just one, short moment Severus went absolutely cold with fear.

Hazel unfastened his trousers and pushed them down carefully together with his silk boxers, freeing his hard cock, as Severus stifled the initial fight or flight response. Such vulnerability to be in the power of another did not come easy for him. But this was Hazel. Hazel who didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Hazel who he could trust not to harm him, physically or otherwise. So he surrendered to her searching hands and let her have the power to do what she wanted.

Slowly, she unbuttoned his shirt, kissing the flesh beneath, touching everywhere, exploring his body, going lower and lower, until she stopped with an impish grin just above his cock.

“I’ve wondered…” she trailed off and experimentally licked the underside of his hard cock. A moan of pleasure and surprise escaped him. 

Apparently, that was what she was counting on, because the next thing he knew was hot, wet heat swallowing the head of his cock. She was unpracticed, yet so god damn enthusiastic, sucking and licking. Severus’ world was reduced to waves of pleasure, as Hazel took more and more of him in her mouth. He tried to stop himself, but eventually his hips bucked upwards on their own accord, hitting the back of her throat, causing her to gag lightly and abandon her pursuit.

“Sorry,” she muttered abashed.

“Sorry?” Severus echoed, and then reached out, grabbed her and claimed her mouth, his hand grasping her hair. “For almost making me come like a teenager?”

She laughed, blushing.

“I am not very good at this…” she muttered.

“Slytherin have mercy on me, if that’s not your very good.”

He rolled them back, managing to cast a spell removing the remainder of their clothes, and sucked on her nipple, teasing her clit with his fingers. 

“So wet for me,” he muttered.

“Yes, please, yes,” she moaned as he pushed his fingers inside, while biting lightly her nipple.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, he lined up his cock and pushed inside. Hazel’s back arched as he filled her.

A string of curses and please spilled from her tongue as he moved slowly and deeply within her. This time he was going to take his time. He ignored Hazel’s please of faster and more and teased her body, licking, biting and kissing. When she tried to move, he steadied her with his hand, grabbing her own hands and immobilizing them above her head.

It was so, so good to be within her, her walls spasming around him in intense pleasure. Severus never broke the slow, deep rhythm. When she finally came, arching her back, a low moan escaped her and at that sight of ecstasy on her face, Severus thrust once, twice more and spilled himself within her.

He released her hands and she grasped him tightly. She was trembling.

“Shhh…,” he muttered, stroking her head, returning the embrace. “It’s alright.”

She laughed weakly against his chest and Severus maneuvered them under the covers. He made sure not to let her go, as she obviously felt the need to be close. He could understand that. The vulnerability of giving yourself without fighting to him, not being able to move, to have her hands immobilized, left her… in need of closeness, reassurance.

It could be a very intense experience.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Hazel nodded against his chest. Severus settled them with Hazel laying on top of him.

“I apologize if I overstepped,” he muttered into her hair.

“No, just… intense,” she whispered. “But good… so good.”

“Good,” Severus echoed.

“I am glad you followed me,” she muttered into his chest, a note of embarrassment in her voice.

“Well, you aren’t the only one. Although I am fairly sure Alexandra Bonham will severely scold me for breaking my promise.”

“Promise?” Hazel looked up at him.

“I may have promised her that I would stay and socialize until midnight.”

“Did she blackmail you as well?”

“As well?”

“Well, yes. I always try to just give money and not actually show up. Each time she manages to make me feel guilty and stay far longer than I’d like to.”

“Does she play on your inherent selflessness?” he mocked.

“She does,” Hazel groaned. “Each and every time. _We need support, dear Hazel! You are one of the people who drive the crowds to attend and make donations! We are helping people!_ ” Hazel imitated the voice of Alexandra Bonham quite well. “And she is technically my boss too.”

“I doubt she would actually use that. She knows very well that you don’t actually need a job.”

“But I like my job,” Hazel protested.

“I know you do, it channels your… how does Miss Granger call it? Saving-people-thing.”

Hazel groaned.

“You are terrible. I like helping people,” she muttered lowly and Severus stroked her hair.

“I know. Madame Bonham does too. She has never tried that tactic with me.”

Hazel chuckled.

“Well, what did she try with you?”

“It was a condition of my speech,” Severus admitted irritably and Hazel laughed.

“I am impressed.”

“With what?”

“Her. You know you could have probably refused and she still would want you to speak.”

“Probably,” Severus agreed. “It is a great honor to speak at Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball. It seemed like an easy enough concession to make at the time. I have forgotten that all my professional colleagues would likely be there. Suffering Damocles Belby or Horace Slughorn for longer than five minutes is always a chore. And they are the worst gossips ever.”

“I’ve met Damocles. He is a condescending dick,” Hazel agreed easily. “He commended me on pursuing my education further despite my station in life.”

“Damocles is a Pureblood from a deeply traditional, mainly Slytherin family. He is sexist, but actually better than most of his family. Does not make him easy to suffer in a conversation. I had to listen to him babble about women and education for full half hour today.”

“If that’s better than most, than I have no interest in the rest of them, although I did meet his nephew.”

“Marcus. Of course, he was a Slytherin, one year above you. Dull and uninspired. Interested more in fine food and clothes than education. His father is much the same.”

“I have met a whole lot of Purebloods in the last two years. Each one worse than the other.”

“They come from completely different background than you, their concerns and interests are set by their upbringing. Some manage to break out from this, but most has no desire too. It’s a comfortable life.”

“To think, I’d be one such person, had my parents lived.”

“I doubt that. Lily, at least, would never allow you to grow up such.”

A small, shy smile appeared on Hazel’s face, before she yawned. She settled her head back on his chest.

Within minutes they were both asleep.

***

The awareness came slowly to Severus, as he felt sun on his cheek. He opened his eyes slowly, realizing where he was.

Hazel was still sleeping, her head in the crook of his neck. As the higher brain functions returned to Severus, he realized precisely what stupid actions lead him again to the bed of Hazel Potter-Black.

Through the haze of drinks, irritation and loneliness the night before, he had not had the presence of mind to actually analyze his actions and think before following Hazel into the gardens. Now, he was sober, comfortable and rested.

He sighed. It was easy to chalk it all up to wine and annoyance, but he knew it was not all of it. Was it a ping of jealousy that prompted him to go after her as he watched her arguing with the boy? Was it a desire to comfort her?

And he allowed her free rein of his body. After a momentary panic, he took it all too easily. Something he had never trusted anyone to do.

He didn’t truly understand this thing.

It was almost too easy to talk to Hazel. By any right it should not have been. The mountain of unpleasant memories between them should have prevented them both from ever being comfortable with one another.

They haven’t broached any difficult subjects, of course, and it was likely for the best. Had they, Severus might not have kept his head. Literally. He was a great duelist, but Hazel was powerful. Much more so than him.

Yet, casual sex didn’t suit either of them. They weren’t built for meaningless relationships. Both felt too deeply, experienced too extremely. 

So, what the fuck was he doing here?

They obviously weren’t building anything permanent. Having sex didn't not equate to a relationship. It was bound to hurt them both. Not to mention, he was entirely unsuitable for her and the wizarding society would likely crucify him for defiling their savior.

As he pondered the situation, Hazel stirred.

“Sev’rus?”

“Good morning.”

His voice was still raspy from sleep.

Hazel rolled off him to her side.

“Morning,” she muttered. She was still half asleep and the covers slid down her body, exposing her nakedness. 

Severus’ cock twitched in appreciation. Apparently, his baser instincts did not reconcile with his brain in evaluating the situation. 

Hazel snuggled up to him.

“What time is it?” she mumbled.

“Around seven.”

“Already?” she groaned.

“In a hurry somewhere?” he run his hand down her back, stopping at the small of her back and pulling her back on top of him. If he were to stop this downward spiral, at least he could enjoy it while it lasted.

“Sort of,” she mumbled, before planting a kiss on his chest. “Merlin, I need a shower.”

Talking about good ideas. Severus rolled them to the edge of the bed and sat, walking Hazel up fully.

“What are you…” she didn’t manage to finish and he hoisted her up and stood. Hazel instinctively hooked her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

“I believe you wanted a shower,” he said as he carried her to the adjacent bathroom.

“Damn it. How strong are you?” she said irritably.

“Better question is do you eat at all? To answer yours though, twenty years of rigorous exercise to prevent long-term Cruciatus damage will do that to you.”

The shower was just as he remembered. He turned on the water and push Hazel against its wall, claiming her mouth roughly.

It took her a moment to catch up, but she responded enthusiastically. It was faster this time, more urgent. Severus prepared her for just a few minutes before seething himself inside her heat. 

Hazel matched his thrusts, showing that her years spent playing Quidditch and fighting dark wizards hadn’t been wasted. Her eyes were dark with desire.

He vaguely registered a pain in his shoulder as she came dragging him along.

The stood there for a bit, breathing heavily.

“Severus, you utter bastard,” Hazel breathed out, as he withdrew.

“I shall assume now you did not enjoy this even a bit.”

“I enjoyed it much more than a bit,” she glared at him. He steadied her, as she unhooked her legs from his waist and stood.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered, touching his shoulder gently. Severus realized that it was bleeding. It was just next to his scars from his almost-deadly encounter with Nagini and Hazel’s hand moved from there to touch them.

Severus grabbed her hand.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking away.

“Why do you insist on touching them?” he asked.

“I have… nightmares… about that,” she admitted quietly. “It’s good to see a proof that… they have healed.”

Severus released her hand. Hazel traced the web of scars on his shoulder and neck.

“You are the strangest person I have ever met,” he whispered softly.

“No, I am not! You’ve met Luna,” Hazel laughed.

“Lovegood.”

“Yes, Luna Lovegood, who I’m almost sure is clairvoyant to an extent.”

Severus thought about it a bit. The girl did know more than it seemed possible, for sure. But she had such an unusual manner about her that it often got lost in the noise.

“Perhaps you are right. She does have a habit of possessing pieces of information that are unlikely to come from any other sources.”

“I dream about you dying sometimes,” Hazel said after a moment of silence, as her hand moved to the most angry looking scar on his neck, where Nagini’s fangs tore apart his flesh. “That we are too late. That Kreacher doesn’t manage to get to you in time. That he doesn’t convince Madam Pomfrey to help. That I am too stupid to send him.”

“It didn’t happen,” he said slowly.

“No, it didn’t.”

“I have nightmares about it too.”

He said it almost too softly for her to hear over the noise of falling water. Almost.

  
***

“So, why were you so insistent on getting up so early on a Sunday after that galling party?” Severus asked as Kreacher served him his favorite breakfast with just so made coffee cup. Hazel’s elves were going above and beyond to please him. “Are you going to work today?”

It was as good of a topic as any he supposed. Better than his nightmares about Nagini for sure. Their nightmares.

“No I have some time off for my exams,” Hazel responded. “I don’t have too many. Only a few this week and then I am free for the summer. I have this… tradition, you might say.”

“Tradition?”

Hazel looked uncomfortable at his inquiry and maybe the topic wasn’t as appropriate as he imagined. Then again, which topic was? Almost everything in their lives was dictated by the war.

“A pilgrimage of sorts.”

“Religious one? Have you found God in death?” he mocked. Severus didn’t think Hazel was religious or that she even subscribed to any religion at all.

“No, no. I am not really religious,” she completely ignored the sarcasm. “I mean the Dursleys weren’t and I only got to know some basics of wizarding beliefs on Friday from Andy.”

“Unsurprising. Paganism is widely disparaged by Muggleborns or Muggle-raised,” Severus sipped his coffee to cover up the way she threw him off disregarding his mockery. “Purebloods don’t mention it often in mixed company.”

“That’s what she said too. I thought it was interesting. Especially the children’s rhyme she told me.”

“ _Eight there are_

_ Eternal, unchanging _

_ Bound by One _

_Ominous, unrelenting_ ,” Severus intoned.

“That rhyme?” he asked.

“Yes! It’s brilliant! Don’t you think?”

“Most children learn it. My mother taught it to me.”

“Well, I am not sold on the wizarding beliefs, but I was asking about my family and its traditions, so Andy told me.”

That made a lot of sense. From what he understood, Hazel had no information on Potters or Black from any other source. And most of them were already dead.

“Anyway, it’s not about religion. It’s more my own personal way to commemorate the people who lost their lives in the war,” Hazel explained. “I feel like all the stupid parties are sort of pointless and annoying, so when they end and I have time to actually do it, I go to Dobby’s grave. There is a trail in the woods and among the dunes that you can follow. On the wizarding side of the forest, that is. Nobody else is there really this time of year… and I don’t wish to run into crowds at the wizarding cemeteries… It would turn into a bloody circus if they saw me there… So I go there… To the beach where we buried him and try to remember all that we lost…” the explanation trailed off.

“Ah,” the past year Severus barely got out of bed in May, apart for attending the parties.

“I went there, the first time just few days after the battle, and then the second time last year. I think I want to continue doing it,” Hazel blushed and looked towards her food.

Hazel mixed her cereals unhappily as Severus tried to think of what to say that wouldn’t make him feel terribly awkward.

“Would you like to come?” she asked suddenly and he blinked at her.

Would he like to come to the elf’s grave? To remember the dead, some of which he, himself, killed? To commemorate? Severus avoided any mentions of the dead for the past two years. He feared it. He feared his emotions, his memories. He hid himself in his ruined house, escaping from them. It was a ludicrous proposition. Outlandish, really. So, why did he feel like going?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to…” Hazel said, and he realized he was silent for too long.

“No, I think… I would like to go,” Severus said. “Just probably don’t have clothes for hiking.”

“We can stop by yours to pick something,” Hazel offered.

They did go to his house after that.

“I see you haven’t even try to renovate,” Hazel muttered disapprovingly. 

Yes, so his house was a ruin. Unfortunately, after the war he did the exact opposite of what Hazel did. She tried to bury her memories by taking on as many projects and as much work as possible. He tried to bury his by not doing anything. Sure, he had good days, when he would work on his research, which were more frequent the longer he went to see Jeremy Hill, but there were also terrible days, when he didn’t feel like getting up. Renovating Spinner’s End was not even on his list. It was an apt comparison to the ruin that his life was.

He ignored her comment and found some relatively comfortable muggle jeans and washed out Judas Priest long sleeved t-shirt, in addition to black boots. It was warm enough that he didn’t need a jacket and besides, they were warming charms.

Hazel didn’t comment anymore on his house, somehow sensing that it wasn’t a safe topic of conversation. She did comment on his t-shirt.

“Wow!” she laughed. “Now, I know how you always seem to know the song references I use.”

“I did grow up in a muggle environment and I was sixteen when their second album came out,” he said.

He had also been just put into the care of Julius Prince at the time too. It had been his one rebellious act against his stern grandfather and his efforts to indoctrinate him with the musings of Pureblood superiority. Julius had succeeded, of course, but when Severus had finally broken off his ties to the Death Eaters and become a spy, he had also returned to the music.

“I will apparate us,” Hazel said, grabbing her backpack of the floor. Kreacher packed it, so Severus had no clue what was inside.

“I can take that,” he said.

Hazel raised her eyebrows at him, as if asking if his male pride wouldn’t let a girl carry a backpack, and he felt his face heat up lightly.

“Sure,” she said, handing him the backpack. It wasn’t exactly heavy. “Men,” Hazel sighed. “I always thought you weren’t actually human,” she noted offhandedly. “But I can see now that it was just an impression.”

Severus wasn’t actually sure which part of the statement should have offended him. He didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in friendly relations with other people. Nor was he used to a person that made him as uneasy and comfortable at the same time as Hazel recently did.

She treated him as no one else ever did. Most people were either intimidated by him or hostile. Albus and Lucius both demanded things of him. Lily treated him like a younger sibling. Hazel was… teasing. She didn’t seem bothered by his off-putting, mocking comments. It threw him off very time. 

“Where are we going exactly?”

“Freshwater West.” 

She took his hand and apparated them both. Seconds later Severus had to once more save Hazel from falling on her face.

“The technique you are employing while using wizarding transportation is unparalleled in its ability to make you fall down. How did you never manage to learn how to stay on your feet while apparating?” he snarked.

“I don’t know. Thankfully, you are here to rescue me,” she shrugged and grinned at him cheekily. “Here,” Hazel grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the trail. It went through the forest. He could hear the sea from the direction they were heading in. “It’s just an hour or so from here.”

“I can understand wanting to visit your friend’s grave, but why not apparate directly?” Severus asked.

“To think about some of my friends, while I go there? As they were when they were alive. For solitude? I don’t know. I just did it the first time and it seemed… right.”

Severus didn’t really know what to think, but he followed Hazel onto the path. Friends and family he had lost. Albus was the last one. Manipulative chess master. But he was the only real father Severus ever knew. Demanding, infuriating father, but he had seen Severus through the hardest times.

He had plunged him from the depths of Azkaban, where Severus relived his mother’s torment and Lily’s death over and over and over again. Albus had shown up for him personally, had carried his broken, beaten down body out of the prison, not allowing guards to touch him. He had then brought him to Hogwarts and allowed Severus to serve his penance. 

For that, if for nothing else, Severus would always, always be grateful to the old bastard. It was a scene that repeated a multitude of times when the Dark Lord had returned. Either Albus or Hagrid would have been waiting for Severus to return and help him inside. Albus would usually be the one to nurse him back to health. Poppy was only ever summoned when Albus could not manage it himself. If she knew how many times they made do without her, she would undoubtedly be horrified.

Then there was his mother, who died beaten down by his dastardly, alcoholic father. Severus had never had any doubt that he had caused her death through his constant beatings. In the end she just gave up on life. Died in filthy bed, only to be discovered by her husband three days later after he returned from an alcoholic spree. 

Severus had then been away at school.

He had still remembered her as she was before. Before his father’s spiral into the addiction. 

She was gentle and quiet. She would read him stories, as he went to bed, teach him about his family and the wizarding world. She was the first to show him potions, to explain the properties of various plants in their little garden. They were poor back then, but it was the happiest Severus was throughout his childhood.

He smiled at the memories.

And finally, Lily, his best and only friend for so many years. She could not have forgiven him for a moment of weakness and Severus had ultimately caused her death. It still weighted heavily on him.

But before that, Severus showed her magic, opened that world to her. She was his escape from his grim existence back at his parents’ house. He told her stories, showed her the potions his mother taught him. They were stolen moments, stolen memories. There was a time where Lily symbolized everything good in his life. 

And now, he was there, twenty years later with her daughter. A woman who had forgiven him much greater sins than one slur. But Lily had had a fiery temper and held grudges like no one. 

“Sev’rus?” he felt Hazel grasping his hand.

“Yes?” he stopped and looked at her.

She smiled.

“We are here. I tried calling you twice, but I guess you were too deep in thought.”

_Congratulations, you idiot, you have just gotten killed… oh, I don’t know… some twenty times!_ the voice in his head scolded him.

He hadn’t lost his awareness outside his personal quarters like that in years.

Hazel pulled him towards a beach.

There was a small grave there. _Here lies Dobby, a Free Elf_ , it read. 

Hazel dropped his hand, put something on the small grave and sat down a few meters away.

“How did he die?” Severus asked after a few moments of silence.

“He rescued us from Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix was torturing Hermione, and the rest of us were in the dungeons. Dobby freed us all and apparated us out of there. As we were leaving, Bellatrix threw a knife. It hit him. He died a couple moments after we landed here,” Hazel explained quietly.

“It’s a nice place,” muttered Severus.

“Yeah, I thought so too. I hate cemeteries. They are all so damn grim. Here… it’s nice. Good place to lay at rest. Dobby always loved socks. So, I bring him a pair every time I am here. Instead of flowers. I think he loved socks, because that’s how I freed him from Lucius Malfoy.”

Severus sat down next to her.

“I think I have heard something about it. Lucius was murderous for weeks.”

Hazel chuckled.

“And I like it here,” Hazel said. “I come here and think for a while about my parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Dobby. All the ones, we’ve lost in that stupid war. And then I lay them to rest for another year. Or at least I try,” she smiled grimly. “Doesn’t work the entire time, but I think they are happy, wherever they are. At least they seemed to be, when I met them. Sirius even looked like a human being and not like a feral animal, when I saw him.”

“You saw him?” Severus asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I did. I never told you. Or anyone really, apart from Ron and Hermione. The Deadly Hallows. They were for real.”

Severus snorted disbelievingly.

“I am too old for fairy tales.”

“Nah, I don’t think they were really gifted by Death to the Peverell brothers, although I guess the wizarding folk does believe in Lord Death, but they did work. You know the story, right?” When Severus nodded, she continued. “The stone. Dumbledore, the bloody manipulative, old coot, left it for me in my snitch. The first one I ever caught. I used it just before… just before meeting Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest.” Just before she went to her death that was. “My parents, Sirius and Remus appeared. We chatted and then I dropped it.”

“You dropped it? Just like that? A powerful magical artifact laying around in the Forbidden Forest.”

It was folly to leave it there, wasn’t it? It was necromancy at its finest. Such artifact would be marvelous to study. A power that many would kill for and die for and Hazel Potter just threw it away.

“You know how the story ends, don’t you?”

“Yes, the middle brother hangs himself, because he cannot deal with his dead fiance being a ghost.”

“Exactly. We should move on I guess. They are happy, in a good place. And we are here. We will see them again, sometime, I think.”

“I still cannot believe you just threw away the damned thing.”

“I also broke the Elder Wand,” Hazel grinned at him.

Severus sighed. Predictable, really.

“Why? Oh Gods, why?”

“Would you like to have it? Seriously? Would you like to carry around a wand that people since its inception have murdered for?”

When one put it like that, it did rather paint a huge target on one’s back, didn’t it?

“Perhaps there is some wisdom in breaking it,” he admitted.

“The Hallows were just too powerful. Let’s say it’s fine when someone trustworthy holds them, but what is the guarantee? Are they unable to be corrupted by the power at their fingertips? And what’s gonna happen to them when the trustworthy person dies? Or gets murdered for them? Can you guarantee that in three, five, ten generations there won’t be a Dark Lord Potter? I cannot. I’d like to believe so, but I cannot really be sure.”

That was some serious thinking, Severus had to admit to himself. Not that he would say it aloud. He used to think Hazel foolish, rash, prone to launch into action before thinking. That image seemed quite contrary to what she was saying.

“Here,” Hazel pulled out something from the backpack Severus dropped on the ground next to them and handed it to him.

It turned out to be a sandwich, which was fortunate, as he was quite hungry after the trek.

“Thanks.”

“Kreacher made it. Your favorite, apparently. He likes you more than me, which is entirely unsurprising.”

“It’s my winning personality,” Severus joked and Hazel chuckled. “You did manage to win him over, though.”

“I restored the name Black to the world, I renovated the ancestral home and I treat him much kinder than Sirius ever did.”

“Black rarely treated anyone kindly,” snarled Severus.

“No, no, he didn’t” Hazel admitted. “He had a mean, cruel streak a mile long, but he was always good to me. Azkaban didn’t do him any favors either.”

Severus supposed it was true. Black did have a major soft spot for Hazel. And it wasn’t like he could grow up while being held in a cell since he was twenty one.

They were quiet for a while. Severus thought again of the people he had lost. His mother, Lily, Albus. The list wasn’t that long, but the list of people he cared about wasn’t much longer than those three. But after a while there was only one question left on his mind. Why the hell did Hazel bring him here? There was probably a lot of other people who could have come with her. Granger, Longbottom, Weasleys.

“So, who did you bring with you the last two times?” he finally asked.

The woman looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“No one. I came alone.”

“Why did you bring me then?” he didn’t mean to actually ask it, but it just came out.

Hazel smiled at him gently and looked towards the sea.

“After the war, you seemed… lost. Like… you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself… Surprised almost that you were still alive after the dust had settled. Sad… Purposeless, I guess…” 

Severus stood up abruptly. She read him effortlessly. He had thought that he covered it up so well. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted her. “I am not used to… being read so easily. I dislike other people understanding my emotions and motives. It is an… _occupational hazard_.”

“I guess expressiveness does kill spies quite quickly. But I don’t think it has much to do with you being easy to read. I just… I get it. I was ready to die and then I didn’t… You had the same manner about you as I saw when I looked into a mirror, that’s what I am saying I guess.”

“Do I still seem like that to you?”

“A bit, yes. Not so much anymore. I thought maybe you could use this. It has helped me, in a way the stupid parties never could.”

Maybe it did help him. He felt a bit lighter. He wasn’t sure if it was what Hazel said about the Stone or the trek, but he did feel better.

“So, do you?” Severus turned around to see Hazel looking expectantly at him.

“Do I what?”

“Still feel disappointed that you survived?”

He looked at her. Hunched posture, with her knees drawn close, melancholic expression, pouring sand from her hand slowly.

“Not so much anymore.”

***  
  


“I slept with someone,” Severus stated.

Jeremy looked up at him from his notes. Severus matched his gaze, looking expectantly.

“I am fairly positive it wasn’t the first time you had sex in your life, so unless I have a bit more details…” he spread his hands. “I doubt you slept with anyone under-aged, so…”

“No!” Severus almost shouted. “I would never do that! And it was consensual!”

“I would never think otherwise,” Jeremy put his quill away. “So, what is the problem?”

“I slept with Hazel Potter-Black. Three times,” no that sounded wrong. “That is on three separate occasions.”

“Well, she is an adult and a powerful witch, so if you would have done anything she didn’t want you to do, you would likely be a smear on the wall.”

“Very funny,” snapped Severus.

Jeremy didn’t answer, only raising his eyebrows in response.

“She was a virgin too, I think,” Severus muttered, his face heating up.

“Well, she is nineteen years old. Not exactly unusual.”

“You are not getting the point!”

“Well, Severus, it was consensual, she is of age, you are as well. I don’t really see your point.”

“She is the Girl Who Lived!”

“I am familiar with the title, yes,” Jeremy drawled.

He was purposefully being obtuse, wasn’t he? There was a myriad of problems in his statement. She was half his age, his former student, the Girl Who Lived. And he was former Death Eater, a broken man, who made her life miserable, who had part in the death of her parents.

Suddenly, a suspicion arose in his mind. 

“You knew this, didn’t you?” snarled Severus. “She’s one of your patients,” he realized. “Of course, she is. Nightmares, anxiety attacks, mild paranoia. And Andromeda Black would have recognized those symptoms and sent her to you.”

He remembered now the potions in Hazel’s cabinet. The color and consistency resembling anti-anxiety potions, anti-depressives. He discarded them at the time, because he wasn’t going to go through her cabinet. But now it was obvious. The potions matched the common PTSD/anxiety/depression medication. Ones that he himself took.

“You know very well, Severus, that I cannot comment on whatever anyone is or is not my patient,” answered Jeremy calmly.

“You don’t need to answer,” Severus waved him off. “I’ve seen potions in her cabinet and woke to her crying in the middle of the night after a nightmare. I am not an idiot.”

“I have never considered you one.”

The utter calm Jeremy was presenting to him annoyed him slightly. He was right. He knew it. And he knew as well that Jeremy would never confirm it.

“I cannot sleep with her again,” he said. “I shouldn’t have in the first place, but apparently I am a weak idiot.”

“You are neither weak, nor an idiot,” responded Jeremy. “Tell me, why do you think you shouldn’t have slept with her? Since I think you both wanted it? Otherwise, it wouldn’t have happened _on three separate occasions_.”

_ Bastard. _

Nevertheless Severus listed his reasons.

“She is young, beautiful, rich and famous. She has a whole life ahead of her. I am a former Death Eater. I was her teacher. I made her life as miserable as I possibly could. I killed her parents.”

“Ok, I will stop you right there. We both know that you hadn’t actually killed her parents. You had unwittingly given a madman that was your mentor a partial prophecy that he interpreted in such a way.”

Severus shrugged. Semantics.

“And then, you proceeded to spend your entire life trying to fix one youthful mistake. Sure, it was slightly more serious that most people’s mistakes, nevertheless I think we both know you paid for it dearly.”

Severus opened his mouth to refute him, but Jeremy raised his hand.

“I will not argue this right now, we can do so next time. Let’s just agree that Hazel Potter likely shares my opinion and not yours. Secondly, you, by wizarding standards, are also young, rich and famous, I won’t argue if you are beautiful, that is, as they say, in the eye of the beholder.”

Severus scoffed.

“Twenty years in the Wizarding World is nothing. You are both likely to live far longer lives than Muggles, and even in the Muggle World such age difference would be only mildly scandalous. And you haven’t been her teacher in almost three years, so I don’t think that counts.”

Severus remained silent.

“We both also know that, while you had been a Death Eater, you are also widely considered a war hero. I think you have an Order of Merlin to prove that.”

“She shouldn’t want this. She has many much more appealing options than me.”

“Ah, and now we have come to the root of the problem,” Jeremy said. “Perhaps you shouldn’t pick and choose what Hazel should or should not want. It’s not your call, Severus. She is an adult, a responsible one, and her choices should be her own. If you don’t want to sleep with her, then tell her, otherwise…” Jeremy spread his hands.

“She started it,” Severus explained quietly. “During the Ministry Anniversary Ball and then we met again at the Order’s party and then at the Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball. Twice she initiated it… I would never presume. The third time, I did. I don’t know what came over me.”

Jeremy sighed.

“Let’s try to look at it from Hazel’s point of view for a second, ok?”

Severus shrugged.

“She initiated it, right?”

“Yes, she was distraught after her row with Weasley. I explained to her how the Purebloods think about marriage and relationships,” he smiled a bit. “She was disgusted with the whole concept.”

“Ah, Purebloods, yes, their customs are rather seventeenth century, aren’t they? So, she came onto you.”

“She kissed me. We were standing next to each other, watching fireworks. Things happened,” dear Merlin, his face was flaming red, wasn’t it?

“Ok, so you had sex.”

Severus nodded.

“I could tell she wasn’t experienced, but I was drunk. We both were. Not completely drunk, just tipsy, you know.”

“And seeing as you are a gentleman you made sure that she had a good experience.”

“I am not a savage. Nor am I a teenage boy,” Severus drawled.

“And then, it happened again.”

“Pretty much. It was one awkward morning, and in the middle of my meeting with West, I remembered I had forgotten contraceptives. Thankfully, it turned out later she was on the potion. I had a moment of blind panic, though.”

“Irresponsible, but it happens to the best of us,” Jeremy muttered. “Regardless, so let’s say you are Hazel and you have a whole bunch of young man after you. I think it should be easy to imagine, since I believe you have had your share of marriage offers. Why don’t you consider yours?”

“Why would I? Most of them wants my money or to be tied to a war hero or my fame.”

“And don’t you think this holds also for Hazel Potter, who is even more famous than you? You said yourself that she did not appreciate the pureblood notions of what marriage should be.”

“Well, I guess.”

“What about trust?”

“What about it?”

“Would you trust one of your suitors? To bed them or to marry them?”

“Obviously not. They might want revenge or simply naked pictures to sell to the press.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Wouldn’t that also be a concern for Hazel?”

If one put it like that, probably it was a concern for her.

“I see we are getting somewhere,” Jeremy smiled lightly. “Neither you, nor Hazel are going to have it easy when it comes to forming any sort of relationships. You do realize that, don’t you? There will always be a bit of paranoia for both of you. Are they just going to use me and discard me? I would venture that it is even stronger for her, being a woman.”

“I thought you weren’t going to speak about your other patients,” Severus accused.

“I am not. It is a supposition. I am fairly confident it also holds for Hermione Granger, the Weasleys, and all the other heroes that suddenly gained fame after the war, but the two of you are also rich, and by far the most famous of the bunch.”

Severus shrugged. It was probably true.

“And then there is you. An older man, who had protected her all her life, who laid down his life for her. One she trusts not to hurt her. One she obviously finds attractive, if we account for the events. I’d go for it if I were her.”

“I think your boyfriend would have gotten jealous if he heard you talking like that,” Severus said absentmindedly, only to hear a sharp intake of breath and a bunch of files falling on the floor.

He raised his eyes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jeremy said and Severus crossed the room to help him clean up the mess. In all his time knowing Jeremy, Severus had never heard him swear.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, handling the healer gathered papers.

Jeremy sighed.

“Don’t. You are smart man, Severus. It’s not like most people don’t suspect. Most are just too _polite_ to mention my _perversion_.”

“I am a Halfblood and not a narrow minded idiot,” he responded.

“No, then perhaps you should apply your not-narrow-mind to your own predicament.”

Severus sat back down on the couch.

“If you want to have sex or a relationship with Hazel Potter-Black and she wants to have sex or a relationship with you, then my advice would be _go and do it_.”

“The society would crucify us.”

“Perhaps they would, perhaps they wouldn’t. You never know. The public is fickle like this,” Jeremy shrugged. “However, when it comes down to it, it is not about what public wants, nor the Ministry. It is only and solely about what the two of you want. I have not taken you for the man, who would be deterred by what, _sheep_ , as you call them, think.”

“It’s not about me, it’s about her. She shouldn’t be saddled with a man of my age or reputation.”

“I do not presume to know the mind of any woman in general, nor Hazel Potter in particular. One thing I do know though. Try not to make choices for her. Usually, it just pisses them off. I should know, I have three strong-minded and strong-willed sisters,” he chuckled.

“You are saying I should go and have more sex with her.”

“I am not the one that has to answer this question. Do you want it? Does she want it? Do you just want to have sex or do you want a more meaningful relationship? Those questions you should be asking yourself and Hazel, not me. I can help you with untangling your feelings and problems, but I cannot make any such decisions for you.”

“There is a lot of history between us. Most of it unpleasant,” Severus muttered slowly.

“I am aware. It was all over the news, even if you hadn’t told me before.”

Severus sighed. His life seemed less complicated when the Dark Lord was still alive. At least then he knew which way was up.

“Try not to break your brilliant brain over-thinking it,” Jeremy said.

“You missed you call as a comedian, Hill,” snarled Severus, but his healer only smiled at this. “I should go, I am fairly certain you have other madmen to take care of, not just me.”

“We usually prefer to call them _patients_ , Severus. And thank you,” Jeremy said, picking up his quill again.

“For what?” Severus felt confused for a moment.

“For not being a narrow minded idiot.”

Oh, that.

“I very much appreciate Rodriquez’ innovative approach to healing potions. They were quite an inspiration, when I was younger,” he said, recalling Jeremy’s boyfriends’ articles in Potion Master’s Monthly.

“I’ll tell him. He will undoubtedly be pleased to have served as an inspiration for such a brilliant mind as yourself.”

Severus stood up and walked towards the door.

“By the way, Hazel is finishing her exams on Friday at six o’clock,” Jeremy said offhandedly.

Severus stopped in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“That question is better answered by you. Why am I telling you this, Severus?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, a new chapter. I really thought that it was going to be a bit shorter than usual, but... well, it didn't work out that way. I blame the quarantine. 
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> Cheers,  
> L

The OWLs and NEWTs had nothing on the exam session at the Magical University of London. The end of the term tests lasted usually up to six or seven hours depending on the program. It was not too bad for Business, but Law took forever. It combined quite a bit of practice in addition to theory. Not only one had to pass detailed and comprehensive tests and write at least two essays arguing one’s points or philosophy (depending on the specific subject), but also participate in mock trials. 

It was exhausting. One exam, consisting of multiple parts could take an entire day, with several breaks in-between. After each day, Hermione felt completely drained, barely managing to apparate to her parent’s home and fall straight into her bed.

Hermione wasn’t as exhausted since her third year at Hogwarts, when she took a few too many electives.

It seemed passing the year would be much more challenging than she expected. Not in the least because she unfortunately shared the classes with Michael Corner. Ginny’s ex-boyfriend from Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw and an mild annoyance on his best day. Corner apparently still carried a torch for the youngest Weasley. Seemingly, it only intensified since their sixth year. Or was it fifth year? No matter. 

Hermione could have told him to give up and find himself a nice girl that would treat him right. Ginny had no interest in an old flame.

Unfortunately, Michael was also one of the few people with whom Hermione was on sort of friendly terms. Most of her classes were populated by pureblood heirs, who only studied business or law, because their fathers told them to. They were also snobs and didn’t particularly want to hang out with a poor (by their standards) Muggleborn, even a famous one. Timothy Fawley and a few of his friends seemed to be an exception to that rule, unfortunately he was one year above her, so they didn’t have any classes in common.

Hermione shuffled the books on the MUL law library table. She had two more exams, before the session was over and she was free for the summer. Free, of course, did not mean time off. From January, Hermione had been a part-time intern in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had two weeks off for the exams, but after that she would have a full time internship until the end of the summer. It paid little, but Hermione’s parents were helping her out with the studies and, of course, she moved back home after the war. Apparation and flooing were much cheaper than renting out a flat in Wizarding London. And Hermione was happy living with her parents too. Being in a boarding school since age eleven did mean that she had not been able to spend as much time with her parents as her Muggle peers and now, she had been making up for it a bit.

“Hey, Mione,” it seemed Timothy also got up near dawn. It was only seven o’clock and the library was still mostly empty. 

“Good morning, Tim,” she smiled at her sort-of-boyfriend and he kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Timothy Fawley wasn’t extraordinarily handsome. He was a couple of inches higher than her, wore glasses that obscured his greenish eyes and had a mop of bright blond hair. He was however extremely intelligent and they had frequently enjoyed philosophical discussion. It was also how they met during one of the parties of law and business students, where they had argued fervently about the rights of magical creatures. It was very polite, all argument-driven, and Hermione had rarely enjoyed such an intellectual challenge.

“You look very bright for such an early morning,” he offered her a compliment with a slight grin.

“I woke up at five and have already run five miles this morning, so I am quite awake,” she explained.

He shook his head.

“I so cannot imagine doing that every morning,” he groaned.

“Post-Cruciatus damage won’t be more pleasant than running every day,” Hermione scowled at him.

Timothy raised his head and smiled placidly.

“I know, I know, it was just a comment. I wasn’t trying to annoy you. What’s wrong?”

“I still have two exams, International Law and International Business. The amount of details that one has to learn for both of those is staggering.”

“Details you have no doubt already memorized without so much as a forethought. Hermione, you are likely the best prepared student in the entire class, if not the entire university, you will do well, I can promise you that.”

“That’s not the point,” she scowled at him.

“I know you take your studies very seriously, but if you don’t rest at all, you will exhaust yourself and then, fail your exams. I am not trying to sabotage you or laugh at you, just worried a bit about your study and work habits. Please, do notice that I am here also at seven o’clock on Saturday morning.”

Hermione sighed. 

“I know, I know. I am just worried a bit.”

“About the exams?” Timothy inquired.

“Not just the exams. Also about the whole Crawley murder.”

“Ah…” he muttered.

“Aren’t you?”

“Possibly. Although my family has nothing to do with Death Eaters, it is… concerning. People really care these days for distinctions between Slytherin and Death Eater. And I doubt the murderers would either.”

“You do not think that this is Death Eater in-fighting, do you?”

“The Ministry’s supposed theory. I doubt anyone with a brain actually believes that. They are sweeping it under the rug, hoping that was a one-off committed by someone who was hurt by the Crawleys and did their own investigation. Political expediency. Had they actually tried to dismantle the Death Eaters right after the war, they might have prevented the kids dying at the very least.”

Hermione sighed.

“I know.”

“Ah, I forgot, you and our dear old Minister are on familiar terms, aren’t you?”

“We are, of course. That doesn’t mean I agree with his policies.”

“Well, a couple more murders like that and the Purebloods like my father are going to quickly replace him. I have already heard the rumblings of discontent.”

“The Purebloods cannot just replace the Minister!” Hermione protested.

Timothy looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Cannot they, really?” he asked slowly. “No matter what the people say, Wizengamot selects the Minister. Which is Purebloods, or Halfbloods. And they will replace Shacklebolt if they find him inconvenient. If rich, influential families keep dying, it will be a no-brainer for them. Shacklebolt seemed like a good choice post war. Even my dad voted for him.”

“But the Purebloods are the most likely to be Death Eaters!” Hermione protested.

“Undoubtedly true,” Timothy agreed. “Likely there are still some among the Wizengamot members.”

“How can you be alright with this?” Hermione was scandalized.

“With what?”

“The fact that the Ministry is likely blocking the search for the Death Eaters, as many of them could be members of that organization, which means Kingsley has to not only find them, but also work against his own organization to capture them. And if they don’t like him, then they will simply replace him.”

“Well, that’s how the system operates. The thing is that if he had major victories on that front, that is capturing former Death Eaters, Wizengamot wouldn’t be able to remove him without a major political backlash. The people may not be in power, but they do have numbers. Wizengamot had not stayed in power for so long by being suicidal. They lose a few members here and there, but the organization just keeps on going.

If, however, he cannot show a lot of progress on this front, which would also eliminate some of his problems within the Ministry, the people won’t be too opposed to the replacement,” Timothy mused.

“So, basically you are saying right now, Kingsley doesn’t have a lot of support among the Wizengamot, nor is he very popular. The regular people want to see Death Eaters brought to justice and the rich and influential want to feel secure.”

“Pretty much. Wizengamot has a lot of factions. There is the so-called Dark faction, which basically means former not-so-open supporters of the Dark Lord. Lucius Malfoy used to lead that one. Of course, now that quite a lot of members have been sent to Azkaban that faction lost a lot of influence. However, the seats went to cousins, heirs, families, wives, like Narcissa Malfoy, and most of them, not all, are rather against the Minister on principle. Surprisingly though, Narcissa Malfoy is not one of them. She seemed to be accepted by the Traditionalists faction.

Then you have the Business faction - seats that are primarily dedicated to expanding their riches. Those are traditionally in closest alliance with the dark faction. Then you have traditionalists, who did not support You Know Who. That would be my father and his distant cousin - Marshall. Marshall was killed during the Second War, because he wouldn’t join with the Dark Lord. He has a son, I think. Grim or something. The families are distant enough that I have actually never met him or his son. Anyway, both the business and traditionalists factions are right now of the opinion that Kingsley Shacklebolt is our best bet.

After that you have neutrals, which right now are also on the side of Shacklebolt. Those votes usually sway the Minister elections. They support changes with certain regularity.

On the other side, you have the Light faction - former Dumbledore’s men. They obviously support the Minister. However, since Dumbldore’s death, they don’t have a clear leader. They threw in support behind Shacklebolt, but don’t really have a coherent strategy so far. Quite a few of them were killed during the war too and were replaced by newer, less experienced members. In addition, on the left, you will have the so-called _Enlightened_ faction. It’s a sarcastic moniker given to that faction in the 1820s by one or the other traditionalist. His name escapes me right now. The name stuck. They are by far the most idealistic of them all, advocating for bringing in Muggleborn children earlier to the Wizarding World for example. Anyway, those are the most important factions right now.”

“What’s wrong with bringing in Muggleborns earlier?” Hermione scowled.

“An eleven year old is capable of understanding the secrecy of the Wizarding World. Five year old is unlikely to do so,” Timothy grimaced.

“Who would believe a five year old, especially if he was describing magic?”

“The first one - probably no one. The hundredth one is a risk. Besides, children can come up with stories, but not coherent ones, with details and complexity beyond a child's imagination. It’s easy to distinguish truth from lie, when ten kids are starting to tell the same story.”

Hermione nodded slowly. This made a lot of sense.

“I know you may not agree with me on that, but I believe that outing the Wizarding World to the Muggles can only end tragically. People fear what they do not understand, so unless you are prepared for an actual war against Muggles, I would advise against informing children about magic. Besides, it’s not worth it anyway.”

“Why not?!” Hermione scowled again.

“Because most Muggleborn children aren’t that powerful to begin with. Only a handful is a serious enough threat to send off to Hogwarts, if you haven’t noticed.”

“There is no power difference between me and my Hogwarts’ year-mates,” protested Hermione angrily. 

“Between you and them - no. Between the average Muggleborn and an average Pureblood - yes, a vast one. Magical power doesn’t come from thin air, Hermione. It’s genetic. Like everything else. You are not expecting a giant child to be born of a small statured mother and father. Somewhere, sometime in your family line there are wizards. Maybe five, maybe twenty generations ago. 

The in-breeding hasn’t started as a mere whim of the families either. Of course, there are exceptions to those rules and they are families who had taken in-breeding way too far. Gene diversification is critical, otherwise Squibs are born. Nevertheless, your average Muggleborn would never be able to fight against a dark lord like You Know Who. Why do you think he was feared so? Yes, he was extremely powerful, but they were people who went head-to-head with him. Not just Albus Dumbledore. My father dueled him and escaped with his life. Some aurors did as well. As far as I remember, so did your friend’s parents - James and Lily Potter.”

“So you are saying Muggleborns are worse than Purebloods.”

“They are on average weaker in terms of magical power, yes. If they continually marry within the Wizarding World for a couple of generations, even only with other Muggleborns, their power is virtually indistinguishable from any other Pureblood. They are studies on that.”

“Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Hermione demanded.

“Because it doesn’t matter in your case. You are the top percentile of the curve of power for the Muggleborns. Your early accidental magic is the proof of that, so is your invitation to Hogwarts. All powerful Muggleborns are shipped off to boarding schools, otherwise they run a high risk of exposing us to the Muggles.”

Hermione thought about Timothy’s arguments. They seemed to be sound and logical. She would have to research it thoroughly after her exams were over. Her internship was ending on 31st of August, so maybe she could use September for her own, private studies.

“I will have to research it,” she said finally.

“You are welcome to do so,” he smiled gently at her. “I have no doubt that you will soon know enough of the topic to argue with me to death on it,” he chuckled.

“It is important to know the arguments of the other side. Or in case you are wrong, to be persuaded by them,” Hermione said in a mock-lecturing voice.

Timothy laughed.

“That’s what I like about you so much. You are always willing to listen,” he said with a small smile and took her hand in his.

Hermione blushed lightly.

“Thanks.”

“Now, I hope I have taken our mind a bit off of your impending exams.”

“You did, Tim,” Hermione agreed. “You have also given me a lot of homework. I still don’t understand why those topics are not even mentioned at Hogwarts.”

“Most of us grows up with that knowledge. Perhaps instead of Muggle Studies for Purebloods, we should have had Wizarding Culture Studies or something to that effect for Muggleborns.”

“That is something Hazel mentioned on occasions. She said there is a distinct lack of understanding in Muggleborn and Muggle-raised Hogwarts’ graduates of the world they are entering. Of course, Hazel put it much more crudely,” Hermione frowned as she recalled Hazel’s frustrations.

“You will have to introduce me one day.”

“I will,” she smiled at Timothy.

“On another note, I was wondering if you would be willing to accompany me to the Muggle… cinema? I think that is the word for it. And a dinner. Of course, after we are done with this term.”

Hermione’s eyes brightened.

“Of course, I would! Do you have a movie in mind?”

“I don’t actually. My sister mentioned it the other day. Apparently, it is quite an experience and one of my Muggleborn colleagues from my year mentioned it as a good date idea. So, you will have to probably guide me through it,” Timothy laughed abashedly. “I am not well-versed in the intricacies of the Muggle world. Or dating, to be quite honest. It’s a bit different from traditional courtship.” 

“Don’t worry, I will,” Hermione chuckled and kissed her sort-of boyfriend on the cheek. 

***

Minerva McGonagall's schedule over the past few months had been ridiculous. Every other day she met with Kingsley to report on the progress. She was at Hogwarts more often than not, supervising the last few weeks of rebuilding. It was exhausting and if it weren't for Filius and Poppy helping out as much as they could, she would have probably collapsed by now. 

When she was not meeting the Minister and other officials and the workers were not at Hogwarts, she was trying to fill the last few positions at Hogwarts. It was much more difficult than she had imagined. 

Some of her colleagues from before the war had decided to retire in the meantime or change their professions. Convincing them to come back to the school that for many held the most horrific memories of their lives was not easy by any means. Minerva had barely managed to convince herself to restart the school. She told herself that she couldn't abandon a thousand years of tradition and that Albus would have wanted this. 

She was quite split on whatever Albus' opinion still held that much weight with her as it did before she found out the extent of his manipulation after the war ended. Albus had always kept his cards very close to his chest, nevertheless the depth and breadth of the threads he had held in the final months had first stunned Minerva and later sent her into a fury, during which she had almost burned Albus' portrait in the Headmaster's office. 

It was now a bit scorched. She would have to send it for restoration to the goblins. 

Immediately after Kingsley had retaken the Ministry, the most senior members of the Order of the Phoenix (or at least the ones Minerva and Kingsley trusted the most) had met for a three whole days piecing together everything that happened. Then they had constructed a narrative as close to the truth as possible, while removing the elements that would place in peril their lives, especially Hazel's. Being You Know Who's Horcrux would have likely turned the public against the girl and the Order. In the first, tentative months of the post-war reality, violence run rampant and accusations were leveled against everything and everyone. More than once the Hit Wizards were the only thing that stopped the crowds from lynching innocent or guilty alike. 

It had taken months for Kingsley to restrain the population and bring back some semblance of peace and normality. Gradually the partisans lay down their arms, returning to the society. Getting the word out was easy. Every wizard halfway through the continent had felt the death of You Know Who. However, many Muggleborn wizards and other partisans who fought against his forces were suspicious of the new, temporary government. And they were still a number of Snatcher groups and Death Eaters on the run back then.

Now, it seemed that the victory in that regard was only partial. The murder at the Crawleys had proved that. The problem was that after You Know Who's death there was no simple way to identify former Death Eaters, not to mention Snatchers. Most of the smarter ones had simply returned to their lives as if nothing happened. The few that had been caught were the well-known ones, the infamous. In the confusion and chaos of the post-war period both sides of the war had mixed seamlessly. It was impossible to say who's supporter you were.

It seemed that more of them slipped the net than they had thought. 

Sure, you could try to separate sides by bloodlines, but that would be ethically dubious and likely on par with You Know Who's laws. And it wasn't a clear cut either. Some Purebloods had fought against the Death Eaters, Kingsley himself being a prime example. Many Halfbloods have supported the Dark Lord’s regime.

And what of the under-aged wizards that have joined the partisans or the Snatchers? Should they send thirteen, fourteen, fifteen year olds to Azkaban as well? Or should they try to reform them, reeducate?

There were no simple, clear cut solutions.

The impact on Hogwarts when they reopened would be immense. The questions mounted with each day, as Minerva poured over the list of names of possible candidates to return to Hogwarts and those to join it for the first time.

Could she trust the children of Death Eaters not to take revenge for their locked up or dead parents? Would they still be loyal to their dead Lord? 

Could she trust to bring back a Muggleborn seventeen year old who two years prior killed three Death Eaters in a fight, losing most of her family in the process? Would such a child be able to readjust to the school rules? Would she tolerate the children of said Death Eaters coming back as well? 

And to whom assign the priority? Should they punish the children for their parents’ crimes? 

And if they didn’t, if they invited the Death Eaters’ children back, would they be able to ensure their safety among a crowd of former child soldiers?

“Perhaps, we should have a conversation with each and every one of them,” Poppy’s voice brought Minerva out of her worrying thoughts. “Bring in Severus, Hazel maybe. Mister Longbottom or Miss Granger to help out with this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have spent the last four days over those lists,” Poppy pointed to the scraps of paper of Minerva’s desk. “You wrote down names, then you scratched them out. Then wrote down some more and burned a lot of parchment. I am suggesting that just going over them again and again might be a pointless exercise.”

“So your suggestion is to put these kids in a room with Hazel Potter and Severus Prince. What are you planning to achieve? Have Severus and Hazel have a go at each other's throats? Scratch each other’s eyes out?”

“I do believe they have both grown out of that impulse,” Poppy smiled, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I always knew boys mature slower. Severus was a particularly tough case.”

Minerva cracked a smile.

“Don’t let him hear you say that he is at the same maturity level as Hazel. He might _scratch your eyes out_.”

“I have called him a misbehaving child more times than I can count,” Poppy waved her off. “And Hazel’s probably more mature than he is. She did grow up so quickly… Your problem though is that you do not know which children can adjust to being in a school again. That you have no way of identifying the ones that may cause problems far above and beyond something a school can handle.”

“It’s not a big leap of logic, I guess,” Minerva admitted.

“Well, first of all, I think we may need to hire a Mind Healer or two. As far as I know most children did not get the opportunity to see one post-war. The Ministry covers it only for aurors and it is notoriously expensive. The Ministry is unlikely to pay for a Mind Healer for a child of a convicted Death Eater. And Muggles have a deep stigma attached to visiting Mind Healers.”

“That is a good suggestion, we should have a budget for such a position, full time or part time. I still don’t understand why you want to put the kids in front of Severus or Hazel. I mean Hazel is at least good with them. Severus, on the other hand… Not that I wouldn’t rehire him, if he would only agree, but we both know that he is not precisely one to put kids at ease.”

“That’s not at all what I have in mind. If kids are likely to open up to anyone in a short span of time, it would be Hazel. At least the ones on our side of the war. They will be impressed with her, eager to share their stories. How many times does a child get a chance to talk to their hero in the flesh?”

“So, you want them to basically talk about their experiences and feelings regarding the war, the Death Eaters, the other side, what they feel like, do they want to take revenge? You assume they are likely to confide in Hazel.”

Poppy nodded.

“And Hazel has a good sense about people too.”

“And Severus?”

“Please, you know why. If anyone can reach the kids of Death Eaters, of Slytherins, it will be him. Not to mention, he will know, who will cause problems. You know that. He always had a sixth sense about this sort of thing. I cannot count the times he managed to catch the troublemakers in the act.”

“So, assuming neither of them shuts their door in my face, you want them to screen the kids for us.”

“Not only them, us too. You, me, Filius. We have plenty of experience. And then, send the problematic cases to a Mind Healer, to see if they can be helped,” she thought for a second. “Make it a condition of attendance. The kids which we think we may be able to help can attend if they have regular Mind Healer appointments. It would be best to have all of them to be evaluated by a Mind Healer sooner rather than later, but I doubt we will have time before the invitations have to be sent. We can think about it once they are all here.”

“And you assume they will agree to this.”

“Hazel will. You know she will. All you have to do…”

“Is to manipulate her,” Minerva finished for her friend.

“That is such a cruel way to put it,” Poppy frowned. “No, simply ask.”

“Which in this case pretty much equates to manipulation.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Poppy shrugged. “The girl is too selfless for her own good.”

“And Severus?”

“He will agree too.”

“Why would you think that?” Minerva narrowed her eyes at Poppy.

“Simple. Because despite all the appearances, he does care about his Slytherins. And the other kids too. You know he does. He will want them to have a chance to come back and gain education.”

Minerva sighed. It was true. Severus had always cared about his Slytherins, protected them, fought Albus for them so many times.

“So playing on his guilt. I’d hate to put them in an uncomfortable situation,” Minerva muttered.

“They haven’t exactly made themselves available lately, have they? The war took by far the greatest toll on both of them, but I think it would actually be good for them too.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Hope, I guess. For tomorrow. For the kids. Helping people does give a sense of satisfaction.”

“I will think about it,” Minerva said finally. “It’s not an idea without merit. And we need some way to make sure the kids aren’t going to murder each other.”

“Indeed,” agreed Poppy.

“That blasted war left us with more problems than we ever had before.”

“Wars tend to do that. Civil wars most of all.”

***

“So, where am I going to meet this girl of yours?” Augusta Longbottom asked Neville, as they sat down for breakfast one day after his final exam for the term.

“The girl of mine?” Neville asked, confused.

“Hannah? Anna? The one you have been dating for almost a year now without introducing her to me. It is quite _improper_ ,” his grandmother informed him sternly.

“Hannah. Hannah Abbott.”

“Ah, good family, that.”

Neville shrugged. He supposed they were a good family according to her standards. They used to be a part of Sacred Twenty Eight, although Hannah herself had been a Halfblood. Nevertheless, his grandmother wasn’t a purist and the Abbott family was a traditionally light one.

“What are your plans regarding the girl? Are you going to go through the proper courtship?”

“I am not sure if _proper courtship_ is what our plans are,” Neville decided that honesty was the best policy in this case.

“Not sure? What are you two doing then? This whole dating is a modern nonsense. You have responsibility, Neville, to ensure the safety of the line.”

The _safety of the line_ was a polite way of saying that he should start having kids. Not exactly what Neville had in mind. Sure, he wanted to have kids, but before that he wanted to finish his studies, become a Master in Herbology. That was his immediate plan.

“We haven’t talked about marriage and kids yet.”

“What are you waiting for, boy?”

“For us to finish our education, grandma.”

Augusta sent him a withering look.

“I do not mind you or… Hannah finishing your studies. I actually applaud your desire to get proper education. For both of you,” she stated firmly. “However, the family is also important. The war has brought all of us to the brink of destruction, and I would rather not see our line die out.”

Neville sighed. He supposed the conversation was long overdue. He was already nineteen, almost twenty, and his grandmother did give him almost two years of respite from reminding him of his familial obligations after the war. A blessing from the Gods, for sure. 

A lot could be said about Augusta Longbottom, but after his actions during his last years at Hogwarts, she could not have been prouder of him. She would often talk about him to her friends, introducing him to important members of Wizengamot. A treatment that was absent during his childhood years. On one hand, her pride in his accomplishments meant he had easily persuaded her to allow him to pursue his degree in Herbology. Unfortunately, it also meant that she wanted him to fulfill the duties of the Head of House.

Technically, Neville wouldn’t become the head of house until the age of twenty five. It was traditional, even for those whose parents had died before reaching that age. The wizarding society often deemed young adults as unprepared for talking on the role. Neville, himself, thought that it was most likely due to their longevity. If you were a hundred or hundred fifty and saw three to four major wizarding conflicts, words of a twenty year old seemed like those of a toddler. Regardless of how many Orders of Merlin said twenty year old had.

Until his twenty-fifth birthday, he would be Lord Longbottom and his grandmother would fulfill the duties of a regent. After that he would become Baron Longbottom. It didn’t exactly mean that much of a change. If he expressed the desire to join the Wizengamot before that, Augusta would likely step down and be ecstatic about the whole thing. Unfortunately, for her, Neville didn’t particularly want to become a member of the august body. 

“I do want to have children, grandmother. I don’t want you to think I do not, however I want to feel ready to have them. Ready for kids and ready for marriage. To be sure, I can be a good father, a good husband and that the world I will be bringing them into is… stable,” he finished awkwardly.

Neville wasn’t entirely sure if his grandmother would understand his concerns.

“You do not feel ready for the children of the commitment of marriage?”

“It’s not about the commitment,” Neville shook his head. “It’s about what’s in here,” he tapped his temple.

Augusta frowned, then sighed.

“Is the war still bothering you that much?”

Neville shrugged. It was. This close to the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts was usually the worst.

“The war is part of it for sure,” he admitted. “But I also feel like… first I was a student, then I was a soldier, and in between that… there was never enough time to sit down, learn about the world… It was pretty much from fight to fight since I was eleven. Sometimes, it was just supporting my friends, sometimes it was straight up life and death situations. I want to know more than just death and killing before I make that sort of commitment to someone, before I bring into this world another innocent soul. To make sure I can raise them right, to show them what is important.”

Augusta looked at him for a long moment with a peculiar look on her face.

“You have gone and grown up on me,” she said softly. “And I haven’t even noticed, sonny.”

Neville looked up in surprise. His grandmother was never, ever _soft_. Neither did she pay him compliments like that.

“Ah… thank you,” he muttered, blushing.

“No matter, boy. It was bound to happen sometime,” and the Augusta Longbottom all knew and loved was back. “Is that mind healer of yours helping you work through things?”

“He is,” Neville admitted. “I am glad to have gone. It does help to make sense of things and deal with the nightmares.”

“Good. Children aren’t supposed to fight wars, and although you have brought acclaim to the family name and have distinguished yourself, it was prudent to send you to get help. It is to be expected that a seventeen year old would not be ready to deal with so much death and tragedy, especially inflicted on his family and friends,” Augusta said reasonably. “No matter how necessary your contributions were.”

His grandmother had always been pragmatic. 

“Nevertheless,” she continued, raising her hand to stifle any possible arguments from him. “I would like you to start considering your other duties. I know you said you are not ready, and I am willing to temporarily accept that. You have lived through turbulent times, and you are only nineteen still. However, that does leave you only five years at most till you have to assume the title of Baron Longbottom and the Head of House. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it is inevitable.”

Neville sighed.

“Perhaps you could talk to your friend about thinking more about the future and meet the families. Even though we have allowed you to make your own decisions in this regard, considering that you have chosen well, the regular… traditions… must be observed.”

“You mean a marriage contract,” Neville stated flatly. Not that the families wouldn’t stop them, if they thought their match improper. It was lucky both his grandmother and Jerome Abbott had decided to let it continue.

Augusta grimaced.

“Yes. With most of the families decimated as they are, those will become even more important in the near future, I assure you. I have already had some inquiries regarding your availability for one.”

“I am in a relationship!” Neville protested.

“I am aware,” Augusta told him dryly. “Which is why I said that you are currently focusing on your studies. However, those polite, subtle inquiries are not going to remain so for long. If you love the girl, you don’t have to marry tomorrow, but it would be prudent to start on the path that will lead you there down the line. Her father implied _subtly_ something to that effect.”

“He did?” Neville was quite mortified by their parents and grandparents discussing their relationship. And then, a suspicion entered his mind. He had fallen for her grandmother’s ploy. She must have known Hannah’s name, if she knew Jerome Abbott and had discussed their relationship with him.

“His wife was murdered. He has one son, who will become future Viscount Abbott, and one daughter, who he would like to secure a good future for. He’s unlikely to have any more children. His wounds from the battle against Death Eaters were grave.”

“It’s the twentieth century, Hannah would be perfectly fine working as a Healer on her own,” groaned Neville.

“It would be highly improper,” Augusta scolded him.

The way the older generations looked at marriage and relationships was… exhausting at times. It was better than for prior generations, of course. Then, the children had no say in choosing their partners. Since his parents, the older generations started to consider some input from the kids. His parents had married for love. Of course, they had also signed a contract. Or rather their families had signed the contract, for it was always heads of families, who agreed to the marriage first, before any sort of bonding could take place. 

Neville considered that he should count himself as lucky, for he wasn’t born in the nineteenth century.

“I will,” he said finally.

“Good, good,” his grandmother smiled tightly. “It eases my mind.”

Neville sighed.

“Don’t sigh on me, young man!” Augusta admonished him. “We have pretty much accepted your choice! Without much fuss about it. She is a good match, from a decent family and a commendable choice. Nonetheless, we have given you a lot of freedom in the last two years to pursue the relationship and have not intervened.”

 _Oh, thank you, grandma! It’s so nice of you_ , Neville thought sarcastically.

“However, both Jerome and I would prefer to avoid the possibility that your relationship develops further without the proper precautions and agreements in place.”

By which she meant that they didn’t want any pregnancies before they were at least engaged to be married, preferably comfortably bonded. Great. Neville’s grandmother and Hannah’s father were now involved in their sex lives. Exactly what Neville was hoping to discuss on this fine morning.

“I understand, I will bring it up with Hannah the next time we see each other, which will likely be today or tomorrow,” he offered. 

There was little he could do to extricate himself out of this anyway.

“Good, we have an agreement then. After you have done so, we will all meet for dinner. At ours, of course,” another tradition. The family of the prospective husband would invite the prospective bride’s close relatives for a meal. None of the impending arrangements would be discussed. It was an initial stage, at which the families were supposed to get to know each other, before the negotiations would take place. 

In the past only the elders of each family would be involved, but these days the prospective couple was actually invited to sit at the table. An improvement for sure.

“I understand,” Neville said. “I will do my best to follow the traditions on this.”

The times when Augusta Longbottom was Neville’s greatest fear were long over. Not just because he had way more terrifying nightmares than his grandmother’s disapproval. However, it did not mean that he could actively go against her. It would cause an unbreachable rift between them, and it was something he didn’t want. Not to mention, he grew up with this. It irritated him, but it was the way of things. When he had thoughts about the future as a child, it had always been in terms of contracts and arrangements between families. His views changed when he went to Hogwarts and saw how the Halfbloods and Muggleborns conducted their affairs and relationships. The freedom was enticing. 

That said, Neville loved Hannah and wanted to marry her one day. So, if their families wanted to make it all proper, official and according to traditions, who was he to argue against it?

After all, they could have been much harder to convince. 

***

“That’s it,” Ron Weasley placed the trunk on the floor of his new room. “Thanks for help, guys,” he nodded to Dean and Seamus. “Mum packed a dinner to heat up for all of us, so we can have a good meal tonight.”

“That’s awesome, mate!” Seamus said cheerfully. “It’s good you are finally here!”

“Yeah! We thought you would never make it,” joked Dean.

“Mum wasn’t very happy I was moving out. Now, it’s just Ginny living at home and she is gone with her team most of the time, anyway. So, she only stays there in the off season. But it was time.”

“Yeah, it was! We are all finally aurors. We cannot keep living with our mothers.”

Dean, Seamus and Ron had rented out an apartment in one of the wizarding areas in London to be closer to work. The rent wasn’t that much when split between the three of them. Dean and Seamus wanted to do so already two years prior, when they started the training. However, the trainee aurors didn’t earn that much and back then Ron still wanted to save up for a down-payment on a house he wanted to buy for Hazel and himself. The day after her rejection, he contacted Seamus and said that he would join them.

The auror pay and splitting the rent would still allow him to save quite a bit of money for his plans to marry Hazel, but now, he knew he had to prove himself more, before his best friend would accept his suit.

Ron had read all the papers following the Second Anniversary Ball and was outraged at the implication that he was not good enough for Hazel. The papers made him out to be a pauper and a gold digger, who could never aspire to the hand of the Girl Who Conquered.

 _Bullshit!_ he thought to himself, as he collapsed on his bed.

Ronald Weasley was more than enough for Hazel. He was the one who stood with her since they were eleven! Together they went on adventures and defeated You Know Who. Ron was there when nobody else was. He fought beside her the entire time and had an Order of Merlin to prove it!

Since Hazel had rejected him, Ron was trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He got some indications from Charlie, who came to see Victoire, their newborn niece. His brother thought that Hazel was more… Muggleborn-like. That she would prefer to establish their relationship as more than friends before agreeing to the marriage.

Well, Charlie spoke more generally about Muggleborns and Halfbloods, but he obviously meant Hazel. 

Ron was unaccustomed to such a process. _Dating_ , Charlie called it. For Ron dating was what he had with Lavander. A bit of harmless fun, kissing and groping as teenagers, before real relationships, agreed by parents and families came to be. Of course, his parents would be happy if Hazel and he married. They had already treated her pretty much like a member of the family. And since Hazel didn’t have any family of her own, he had done exactly as he was supposed - proposed to her.

His mother was very much unimpressed with the events that unfolded from there. 

“Hey, Ron, we are going out to buy beer. Do you want some?” Dean called from the hallway.

“Sure! Do you need some money?” he called back.

“Nah, we will make a list with who pays for what and we will keep track of it.”

“Sure, that works!”

It wasn’t exactly the life Ron wanted after finally becoming the fully fledged auror, but so far it was pretty good.

He grabbed the newest _Quidditch Weekly_ paper. The season had just ended and Ginny with the Holyhead Harpies had climbed to the third place. Of course, his sister was only a reserve chaser for now, but he was sure she would quickly manage to become a starring one. She was almost as good as Charlie at the game. Ginny was even interviewed at the beginning of the season when she became the reserve seeker for the Harpies.

There was a time when Ron would have been jealous of that success, but these days he was much happier being the Junior Auror. He was in the top ten graduates too! Seventh to be exact. He was so proud of his accomplishment, and so were his parents.

Finally, Ronald wasn’t just the sixth Weasley or Hazel’s sidekick. He had managed it on his own, without any help from Hermione or his family.

The door opened and shut.

“We’ve got the beers, mate,” Seamus shouted from the hallway. “Coming to play mini-quidditch and drink some?”

“Totally!” Ron raced to the kitchen, where Seamus and Dean had already started setting up the game. Seamus handed him an opened bear. “Thanks, Seamus!”

“So, Ron and I will play against each other and then Seamus plays the winner?”

“Why not?” the redhead shrugged. “The first to score five or ten?”

“Five, it will last too long otherwise. We can later play more games,” Dean set up the miniature pitch. “We have Holyhead Harpies, Montrose Magpies, Puddlemere United, Falmouth Falcons and Tutshill Tornados.”

“Wow, you’ve got a lot of teams,” observed Ron.

“We have been collecting. But we only have the figurines for the last two seasons. We don’t have any pre-war ones, unless they kept on playing,” Seamus explained.

“Should we draw lots?” asked Dean.

“That sounds good,” Ron took a couple of sips of his beer.

They put five figurines in a pouch and Seamus drew first as the one who wouldn’t be playing the first game.

Seamus drew Holyhead Harpies. Ron followed getting Puddlemere United and the Tutshill Tornados went to Dean.

“Flip a knut to see who attacks first?”

Eventually, Ron became the winner and was to attack first. He looked at his seven players. It was easy to place seeker and keeper on the pitch. Seeker was almost always placed high above, unless one planned to use the seeker to stop the other’s team attack. However, that strategy tended to be risky. It has occasionally happened that the attacking seeker would catch the snitch when the defending seeker was busy helping his team. Then the entire match would be lost.

“I am going to activate the spell,” Seamus said and waved his wand. The obscuring curtain fell above the mini-pitch. 

Ron decided to think carefully about how to place his players and what play would they execute. Puddlemere United were rather known for a positional type of attack, quickly passing the Quaffle to each other and moving behind the opposing team’s players. However, Dean would know that very well. His friend and fellow auror would undoubtedly place his players to counter that sort of attack.

Ron hesitated and then placed his beaters on the opposite sides of the pitch. That would increase their chances of catching at least one of the Buldgers and sending it towards the Tornados.

Finally, after a few seconds, he decided to place his Chaser into the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. It was a risky move, but it was likely Dean would not think about it.

Seamus nodded at the both of them and released the balls. Ron’s main Chaser got the Quaffle. The redhead saw Dean waving for ready at the opposite end of the field. Ron waited but a few seconds before his time almost ran out before doing the same himself. It was a tactical decision. He waited until the Buldgers were the closest to his players.

As he waved his wand, the players leaped to action and the obscuring spell lifted. Ron guessed rightly. A quick look showed that Dean had placed his players to counter a fast, positional attack, with one of his Chasers placed on the very edge of the pitch and the other two in the midfield, but outward. They had no chance of scrambling fast enough, when Ron’s miniature Chasers flew straight towards the Keeper, at the last moment separating and passing the small ball above Tornado’s Keeper’s head.

The goal was almost an afterthought.

“Yes,” Ron cheered as his players made a victory round around the pitch. Dean grimaced.

“That was smart,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have thought you would use such a risky strategy,” he said, as a single dark blue orb appeared above Ron’s console for drawing tactical arrows. “It won’t work again,” he said firmly.

It did work again. Ron chanced the risky move once more in his next turn and then switched to positional attack, which was a major forte of Puddlemere United, eventually defeating his friend five to three.

“It was a good game,” he said, as his players made the final victory lap.

“You are really rather good at this strategy thing, Ron,” admitted Seamus as he took Dean’s place. “But this is the end of your run!”

The same strategy wouldn’t work against the Harpies. Firstly, they had one of the best Keepers of the League - Gwenog Jones. Straight on attack he used on Dean, would not scatter the infamous player. No, he would have to resort to a bit of trickery. Or force.

The first play he tried was Porskoff Ploy - getting one Chaser to fly far above the pitch and dropping the ball to one of the other Chasers - failed completely. Thankfully, Ron correctly predicted that Seamus would try his prior trick and countered the Hawkshead Attacking Formation easily.

“Damn it,” Seamus swore, as both of them picked up their second beer after the first round.

“Trying my own tricks on me, mate?” Ron laughed. “It ain’t gonna work.”

Seamus didn’t try the same formation again, but he still lost four to five after nine rounds.

Ron opened the fourth beer to toast his victory.

“Damn, mate, you are good!” Seamus commented.

“It’s all in the strategy and years of reading Quidditch books and magazines!” Ron laughed and clinked his beer bottle against Seamus’ and Dean’s.

“Well, I can understand why you had the best score at the final Strategic Warfare exam!”

Ron did manage to take the first place in that exam by a couple of points above another auror candidate, who did not attend Hogwarts, but one of the Irish schools. It was the only exam he got the top spot, but he was also third in dueling and fourth in the Physical Trial. The rest of his final auror exams he placed anywhere from fifth to twelfth.

“Thanks,” he grinned at his roommates as he drained his fourth beer completely. “You didn’t do too badly either.”

“Well, eleventh and fourteenth out of sixty five isn’t bad!” Dean responded with his own grin. “And that’s not counting the thirty five who washed out.”

“True, but the aurors don’t usually recruit the full hundred,” Seamus pointed out. “The regular trainee cohort is only seventy, with about forty-five making it to the full Auror. It’s only because they are understaffed, Kingsley decided to have more trainees. I am very glad I could have picked Assault Squad with further training in Explosions and Fire as my post.”

“Obviously! Still, we were well within the limits of usual admission to the ranks,” Dean countered. “And I don’t know how you could have picked Assault Squad. There were still places in the Major Investigation Team with me and Ron.”

“To us! To passing the auror training,” Ron toasted and clinked their bottles again. “Better Assault Squad than doing your first six months in Azkaban on guard duty or be on patrol for the next three to five yeas,” he added after they drank.

“I was split between the Assault Squad and Major Investigations Team, but I decided I couldn’t deal with all the detective parts long term. It was my weakest exam by far. And I never thought I would make it to full Auror,” Seamus admitted. “But after the war, we need good people in the DMLE. People who are actually willing to track down and remove the remaining Death Eaters.”

“That’s totally true!” Ron nodded his head fervently. “Too many of them have escaped justice! I couldn’t believe Snape got off scot free and Malfoy only got five years!”

“Malfoy the Elder. Draco got a bloody probation!”

“So did all of the Slytherins under the age of twenty. It was a fucking outrage that they weren’t sent to Azkaban.”

“Absolutely,” Ron nodded, as Seamus opened the fifth round of beers and they got the food from his mother out.

“Well, they are going to step out of line sooner or later and we’ll be there to catch them. And then they can be sent where they belong… with their dearest dads,” Seamus grinned wolfishly over the beef stew.

The discussion died out a bit after that and Ron was thinking of finishing his food and beer and falling to bed, when Seamus broke the silence again.

“So, do you really want to marry Hazel, Ron?” he asked slowly.

“Of course, I do,” the redhead stated firmly. “And I will. I will work hard and she will see that I can be a great husband to her!”

“I don’t really get why,” Seamus shrugged.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to marry her?”

“Because we would be the perfect couple!” Ron snapped. “I was there for her from the beginning and she will see it eventually that I could be there for her forever.

We will have three or four children and she will take care of them and I will be an auror. You know, I think two boys and maybe one or two girls, so that the boys can inherit the Potter and Black titles.”

“I don’t think that would work for her, mate. You two just don’t seem well suited to each other. At least not anymore,” Seamus said carefully. “I mean she went to the MUL to study healing from all things! I thought she would join us for the auror training to be honest.”

“Pureblood women shouldn’t become aurors,” Ron frowned.

“Don’t be a condescending dick, mate,” Dean said. “The second in our exams was a girl! Catriona Clark.”

“She’s a Muggleborn though.”

“I just don’t think Hazel understands us anymore,” Seamus considered.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked and decided to open another round of beers, which Seamus and Dean greedily grabbed.

“Well, she is studying to be a healer, instead of fighting with us. She was the one to argue for leniency for the Death Eaters under twenty. And I have also heard that she frequently volunteers in Azkaban. You know, as a mediwitch. The healers and mediwitches from Saint Mungo go there to check on prisoners.”

“Impossible. Hazel knows what those bastards did.”

“I dunno,” Seamus admitted. “But I have heard it from Connely himself. And he was posted to Azkaban for the last six months.”

“I cannot believe it. I don’t understand why they go there at all. Just let the bloody murderers die.”

Dean and Seamus shrugged.

“I am sure there is an explanation.”

“There probably is,” Ron agreed. “Hazel likes to keep quiet on her activities. Especially, if she is investigating something.”

Perhaps that was the answer. Hazel must have found something to let her identify the Death Eaters or was searching for an answer. Maybe he could offer his help? Get posted to Azkaban for example? But no, posting to Azkaban wouldn’t allow Ron to climb the ranks fast enough in the Auror Corps. 

And he would have to do so to show Hazel how serious he was about them marrying.

***

The Ministry of Magic was a cesspit of humanity, Kingsley Shacklebolt decided. A disgusting, power-hungry, scheming, expedient mass of people, who would stick a knife in his back, if they only could get away with it. Get away with it and gain even one galleon from it.

“What should we do?” Alice Fenwick asked.

“We have to move slowly and carefully. It’s unlikely that the former Death Eaters will let themselves be flashed out. We start off with the list provided by Prince and move forward,” said Joseph Lawrence.

“What about Robards?” Kingsley asked.

“I modified his memory to remove all mentions of the Death Eater’s list.”

“That’s not exactly legal,” Alice grimaced.

“Would you rather have him warn our suspects? We would never be able to keep this information contained,” Joseph snapped. “I should have never trusted him when he said that the list was likely bogus, but in the chaos of those days… Well, I made a serious mistake.”

“And how do you know he hasn’t informed anyone already?”

The Head Auror jerked in annoyance.

“Because before I modified his memory I questioned him under _Veritaserum_.”

“Do you, Aurors, just go around breaking laws?” snapped Alice.

Joseph shrugged.

“All is fair in love and war.”

“Why did he bury the list?” Kingsley spoke before Alice could voice her next accusation.

“He was worried that the Death Eaters would provide more evidence for his actions during Voldemort’s reign and he would be shipped off to Azkaban,” Joseph grimaced in disgust. “Are you sure I cannot fire him?”

“Yes, it would give a warning clear as day that we are cleaning the house.”

Joseph snorted.

“Cleaning the house? With just the three of us?”

“So far. We are going to bring in dependable, trustworthy people, prepare and then arrest as many former Death Eaters as we can in one go.”

“Dependable people in the Ministry of Magic? Good luck with that,” Joseph laughed. “I don’t trust almost anyone here these days. Half are ex-Death Eaters. The other half stood by and did nothing when they tried to murder me for being born.”

“Which is why,” Kingsley stated firmly, “we need to single out those that can be trusted. Starting with those who were obviously against Voldemort. The ones who fought, who hid and the ones who lost family members and friends to Death Eaters.”

“Why not go to the Order of the Phoenix?” Alice asked.

“Because they are mostly apolitical since Albus’ death. Or at the very least, they have no interest in ruling the Wizarding World. And they are build like a revolutionary organization. Secretive, cell-based. Sure, we have a few well-known members, but many of them I only know by a code name.

For the known ones… Minerva has her hands full with restarting Hogwarts, a bunch of them are teachers, and the rest is either dead or… well, too scarred to want to get into another fight.

Besides, revolutions never end well.”

“What about Prince?” Alice inquired. “He was a bloody Death Eater. He spied on them for twenty years. One would think he would be our best resource in getting rid of that scourge.”

“If you find a way to convince Severus Prince to get out of the house and help us, I will give you an Order of Merlin, first class,” Kingsley snorted. “He doesn’t want to be involved and he most certainly doesn’t want to become an employee of the Ministry. I offered. With generous benefits. Every time I bring it up, he refuses, or outright cuts the conversation short.”

“So, no Prince,” Alice thought for a second. “What about the other members of the Order? Not, the organization as a whole, but individual members. Why do we need to make them employees anyway?”

“Because I am not about to overthrow another governing body in the span of two year,” Kingsley cut that line of inquiry off sternly. “As for individual members - Arthur Weasley is someone we can definitely bring in. Hestia Jones is also definitely reliable and their oaths to the Order will not let them betray us anyway.”

“Those oaths…” Alice started.

“Very illegal, if you must know. Based off of the Unbreakable Vow. No one can betray the Order’s secrets. Not even involuntarily.”

“Including _Legimancy_?” Joseph asked with interest gleaming in his eyes.

“Yes, _Legimency_ and _Veritaserum_. Designed by Dumbledore himself. It was a precaution we have had to take after the first war. Alas, Joe, the oaths themselves are also a part of the secret. Only few selected people actually know how to administer them.”

Each day, Kingsley thanked the Gods for Albus’ foresight in this. The old man might have been manipulative bastard on his best days, but if Kingsley had to worry about a fool babbling after too many beers…

“Damn it, I would like to know such spells.”

“As, I am sure, many would.”

“So, we have two potential co-conspirators against the Death Eaters in the ministerial ranks. Who’s next?” Alice brought them back to the subject at hand. “What about the younger members? The ones who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts? Some of them have become aurors, haven’t they?”

“Yes, Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan.”

“Absolutely not,” Kingsley said.

“Why not? I thought you trusted them to join the Order…”

“I don’t trust them at all. That’s why they joined the Order.”

“For the oaths,” Joseph said with understanding.

“Yes. For the oaths. They knew too much, so I made sure they thought they were allowed in as a reward, whereas in truth they were allowed in as a protection for the other members.”

It wasn’t exactly true. There was a time quite recently when Kingsley did trust them. Pretty much until Ronald Weasley's altercation with Hazel. Joining the Order was a precaution though, not a reward, in his mind. Now, he was glad for having taken it. He was reminded that they were too young and impulsive to be trusted.

“No war has ever been won cleanly,” Joseph chuckled.

No, there hadn’t been. In this case, though, the cleanliness of the win was not the main problem. No one would even think right now of accusing them of dirty tactics. No one would likely care, if they had murdered babies to win. Not that they did. The victory over Voldemort was actually quite clean, if you discounted a few actions of some spies.

“Well, five people will not be able to confirm the Death Eater identities no matter what you may think, Kingsley,” Alice Fenwick stated. “We need much more than that.”

“I have a few names - Gareth Greengrass.”

“An Unspeakable, Joe. Are you sure that is wise?” Alice frowned.

“The Unspeakables didn’t like Voldemort's regime any more than you did. And Gareth is an old friend. He will be easy to convince.”

“Ok, anyone else?”

“Thomas MacMillan and Mordecai Berrycloth from the auror office. Both are young and both are rather firmly against the Death Eaters.”

“See, Alice, it’s not that bad!” Kingsley smiled lightly, quite relieved that they managed to get to seven names already. “I expected to have much fewer options at this early stage of the game,” he admitted.

“I knew that we would have to do that sooner rather than later,” Joseph shrugged. “I have been investigating my own employees for months now. Plus Ariana Grant, Harlow Hughes and Cameron Rees will make ten.”

“The three aurors that survived your escape and raiding parties against Voldemort in 1998,” Kingsley said musingly.

“Precisely. I have no doubts as to their loyalties. They are my brothers-in-arms.”

“And sisters,” muttered Alice.

“Sisters, brothers, doesn’t matter. I would bet my right arm that they will not fail us.”

“And experienced aurors and hit wizards will make the whole thing easier,” added Kingsley. “Anyone else?”

“No more from me,” admitted Joseph. “I have some possible candidates for this task force, but I need to investigate deeper. I don’t want them to murder my suspects either.”

Kingsley scowled. Of course, the murder at Crawleys had to come up. The possibility that someone on their side committed such atrocity was ever present, but he preferred not to think about it. They hadn’t found anything useful at the crime scene, so determining the responsible party was likely impossible. Unless, they hit again. Auror involvement was unfortunately also suspected. At least between him and Joe. Although, that wasn’t a given. Too many people had soldier training these days that it was impossible to say.

“Alice, do you have any names?” 

“Eleonor can help, although she does have a heavy schedule at the MUL.”

“Your daughter,” Joe stated flatly.

“Family bonds. Rather unlikely to betray us,” Alice waved him off. “Other than that no one I trust implicitly. The DMLE isn’t like the Auror Corps. Few idealists here, mostly vultures wanting to launch their political careers.”

“Probably fair,” Kingsley sighed. “Joe, please expand your investigation to the DMLE employees. We will need them before this is over.”

The Head Auror nodded gravely.

“Let us Project _Tabula Rasa_ and may the Gods look favorably upon our efforts,” Kingsley said.

“ _Tabula Rasa_?”

“Muggle philosophy. It theorizes that children are born as a _blank slate_. I thought it was appropriate,” Kingsley explained.

“I like it, although you better pray to your Lady Fate for help. I have a feeling, we are going to need her,” Joe said. “A lot.”

Privately, Kingsley agreed. He had over three thousand employees at the Ministry, not even counting the Auror Corps and now he had eleven people who would have to investigate, recruit and organize the biggest arrest of the former Death Eaters within the Ministry’s own ranks. Without tipping their hand or being betrayed.

It seemed more of a challenge than taking down Voldemort ever was.

***

It was just there at the back of his mind. And Jeremy’s usual methods of cleansing his mind simply refused to cooperate. 

He chewed at the quill, spilling ink onto the letter he was trying to compose. 

“What troubles you, my love?” Miguel sat down next to Jeremy and handed him a cup of coffee.

“Patients of mine,” he admitted. “I am unsure if I gave the right advice.”

“What is the problem?”

“They are sleeping with each other.”

“I cannot see how that could be a problem,” Miguel grinned. “That is bound to help their state of mind.”

“It’s not in itself. I think it could actually be helpful and they seem quite well suited to each other.”

“So?”

“There are other considerations in this particular case,” Jeremy admitted.

“Ah, famous ones then. So, probably war heroes,” Miguel deduced.

“You know I am not going to tell you,” Jeremy huffed.

“You don’t have to. I will guess! Seeing as they are other considerations, they are unlikely to be a conventional match. So, let me think, who could you have as a patient that was famous and possibly scandalous…”

He thought for a few seconds.

“Hazel, most likely. You two seem way too familiar with each other than a Head Mind Healer and a Mediwitch would be under normal circumstances.”

“I cannot confirm or deny,” Jeremy said calmly.

Miguel had seen them interacting a couple times at Saint Mungo and the parties they had to attend. And it was true, they were on a first name basis, and Jeremy genuinely liked Hazel. A feeling that he felt was returned.

“Well, I have no doubt the girl would need a Mind Healer after the war and you are the best. Andy would take her to you.”

The problem was, their community was much too small in general. Miguel knew most of the possible candidates for famous patients Jeremy might have had. It wasn’t a big leap to assume Hazel would likely be one of them.

“So, who would Hazel Potter-Black be sleeping with that might be deemed unsuitable? She seems like such a responsible and level headed girl… I doubt her pick would be that bad… Unless it is from the point of view of the public…”

Damn, Miguel was getting way too close to the truth. Jeremy was about to stop his trail of thought, when Miguel’s eyes widened.

“You cannot tell me she is sleeping with Severus?!” he exclaimed.

“I cannot tell you anything, actually,” Jeremy answered slowly.

“So, she is sleeping with Severus! I did think that there was something off about him at the ball,” Miguel mused. “I would have never suspected that…”

“Miguel…” Jeremy said warningly.

“Oh, please. It’s not like I am ever going to tell that to anyone,” his partner waved him off. “Well, I don’t know Hazel that well, but I have nothing but the highest praise for Severus. Sure, he’s gruff and grim most of the time, but one can expect that with what he went through. So I am guessing you are worried about the way the public might react to their relationship.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that we are talking about them, but the public reaction is a major concern. It is not even a relationship at this point. I feel they just fell into this thing, as a spur of the moment.”

“Huh, Severus being spontaneous… That’s a weird thought…” Miguel thought for a bit. “Do you think there could be something between them? I mean something long term?”

Jeremy pondered the question. From what he knew about Hazel and Severus, they did seem to have a lot in common. If they could get past the tragic history between them… Well, if Severus could, Hazel seemed quite reconciled with it. The forgiveness that girl was capable of continued to amaze Jeremy. Nevertheless, she would be likely very good for Severus. The man needed something in his life in order to stop losing himself in the past. And on the other hand, Hazel could use someone she could trust unquestioningly to be in her corner. For support and to tear her away from her work and projects and provide the much needed respite. The way she threw herself into it after the war had already become a little bit of a problem. She was fast on a track to exhaustion. 

It would likely be beneficial for both of them to have someone who wouldn’t use them.

On the other hand, neither of them was in a particularly great state of mind. Psychologically, they both had major challenges to overcome, not to mention the deeper issues stemming from the lifelong abuse. 

“It might be possible. It’s too early to tell.”

“But you think it could be good, then?”

“I think so, but at this point it’s more of an intuition than anything else. That’s precisely what I told one of them. That if they want it, they should try. It’s difficult enough to find some happiness in this life, to let go of it all too easy.”

Miguel stroke his cheek softly.

“You old romantic,” he sighed. “If you think, it could work between them, and yes, I know them does not mean Hazel Potter and Severus Prince, you should support them. Who the fuck cares what stupid papers will write?”

There was wisdom to this. As far as he knew, neither Hazel nor Severus actually read any of the papers. And if they managed to keep it out of the press for long enough, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway.

“Let’s just leave it for now,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have brought my work home anyway.”

“It’s alright. It’s not like it’s a habit of yours.”

It wasn’t. Jeremy did his best to avoid even thinking about his patients while home. Otherwise, it would not be fair to Miguel, nor himself. 

“My mother wishes to see us,” he said instead. “She is organizing a dinner for the entire family. My sisters, their husbands and the kids.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” Miguel grinned cheerfully.

It was. For Miguel at least. His mother absolutely loved Miguel, not just because he cooked expertly, like every Potion Master. Miguel was by far the old woman’s favorite son-in-law, favorite child even from the day Jeremy introduced him to her. Miguel could do no wrong in her eyes.

On the other hand, Jeremy would have to suffer his sisters’ glares, as his mother criticized their husbands.

“Yes, of course, she loves you more than the whole rest of us put together,” Jeremy groaned.

“You know, she doesn’t actually. She is just glad that her only boy ended up with someone as fantastic as me,” Miguel grinned cheekily at him.

“And she doesn’t like my brothers-in-law.”

“Because they are jerks,” said Miguel.

“They aren’t jerks,” protested Jeremy weakly.

“Even you cannot muster the strength to defend them,” Miguel pointed out.

All of Jeremy’s sisters were non-magical and married Muggles. His oldest sister married a local politician, whom even Jeremy, with his rather non-violent manner, wanted to murder on occasions. His middle sister married a surgeon, who was probably the most palatable of the bunch. Successful in his career and frequently absent from his home, he generally didn’t contribute much to the conversation. His youngest sister married a damned poet. Sure, he was moderately successful, but much less moderately arrogant.

“Maybe I can charm the damned rhymester’s mouth shut, what do you think? Or a small _Confudus_ , perhaps?”

“No casual cruelties are to be inflicted on my brothers-in-law.”

“There is nothing casual about them. They would be a premeditated savagery.”

“Miguel,” Jeremy said warningly. “I will leave you at home if you don’t promise me to leave my brothers in peace.”

“Mum would never let you live it down and you know it,” Jeremy fixed him with a steely gaze. “Alright, alright,” Miguel threw his arms up. “I promise not to do anything to your asshole brothers.” 

Jeremy sighed. It was going to be an exhausting party.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lo!  
> This chapter was somehow quite difficult. Not a writer block, but it was damned slow to write. But here we are! A bit shorter than the few latest ones. Only about 10.7k, which is still astonishing lots of words.
> 
> Hope you'll like it.
> 
> Cheers,  
> L

“Heya, Neville,” Hazel collapsed on a chair next to her friend in the University’s canteen. It was the second to last day of her exams this year. She was lucky to clear three of her subjects in the two pre-session weeks and it only left her with three more tests for the official end of term examinations. Now, she had only two more to go.

“Hi, Hazel. How are you doing?”

Neville was sitting alone, eating his lunch. It was common during the session, as students schedules were completely unpredictable. Hazel herself typically started late and studied well into the night. 

“Exhausted, mostly. I had never thought that I would say that, but I miss OWLs and NEWTs,” she said with an exhausted groan.

Neville chuckled.

“You aren’t the only one. I thought NEWTs were terrible, but this is something else. Who thought that having a six-hour exam with multiple parts was a good idea?”

“I know, right? It’s like they are actively trying to make us drop out of school.”

“I think they might be actually. Out of my class of thirty at the beginning, only twenty-four are left. Four didn’t even last the first term. And people wonder why so few wizards have masteries in their subject. First, you have to do three years of slavery at the university for Adept title and then, you still have two years and the dissertation before you can get a Guild Mastery. It’s bloody insane.”

“Bit different for healing. Five years at the Uni plus doing the Healer trainee-ship at the same time. And on top of that, the dissertation. I cannot imagine how bad it gets after the second year. I will have to quit my job to do the trainee-ship.”

“You have been essentially doing that already. You even take more hours as a Mediwitch then you will have as a Healer trainee,” accused Neville.

“Well, true, but I am qualified to be a Mediwitch and as a Healer trainee, you have to learn a whole lot more.”

“And to think that Ron and Seamus and Dean are already qualified Aurors.”

“Well, they don’t have a Mastery in Defense though. You still have to go all five years, even if you are an auror.”

“True,” admitted Neville. “But they are already productive members of society, while we have three more years to go.”

“We have already done more than most people ever will for the society. We have pretty much paid our dues until we are hundred. Besides, neither of us actually has to be a productive member of the society. We can lay on the beach for the rest of our lives, if we so pleased. Or join Wizengamot.”

“Never,” said Neville. “Can you imagine sitting in that stuffy rooms for the rest of our lives? I’d rather be in my garden.”

“Well, they do rule the Wizarding World. Kingsley was mentioning something about me joining a couple months back. At least I think that’s what he was trying to encourage, he never actually said it out loud.”

“Better here than there. Although, my grandmother has been alluding to that same thing as well. How are you exams going?”

“I think they are going well. I’ve studied so much and had fairly good grades so far, so I think I am going to pass all of them.”

“Even Advanced Potions?” Neville looked at her in surprise. “I’ve heard it’s the toughest exam for all healing students. Hannah didn’t seem too concerned, but she mentioned others being in a panic mode.”

“Maybe outside of Hogwarts. But Severus’ exams were hard. Unreasonably so, but a damn good preparation for this, I’ll tell you.”

“You call him Severus?” Neville’s eyebrows rose to the sky.

“It’s not like he’s my professor anymore,” Hazel blushed lightly. “We did make up after the war. And I will even forgive him for being a bastard all this years and singling me out during potions, if I make 90% or better on Advanced Potions.”

Neville chuckled.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks. How are yours going?”

“Aquatic Plants was fairly easy. They even had a question about gillyweed, you know?” 

Hazel chuckled at that a bit. 

“I bet that one was some easy points for you.”

“It was actually,” they grinned at each other. “The rest I think went also well. I still have European Fungi on Monday exam and Dessert Plants on Tuesday next week. And then I am free for two weeks, after which I am going with one of my professors to Africa for a month as a research assistant.”

“That’s great news, Neville! Congrats!”

“Thanks, Hazel! Hannah was a bit unhappy that I will be gone for a month. I am thinking of taking her for holidays after I come back. Like for a week or something, but I am not sure, if our families will be very happy about that. Or if she would agree. You know propriety and all that.”

“No, I actually don’t,” admitted Hazel.

“Ah, I forget you are Muggle-raised,” Neville muttered. “You see, before engagement or marriage really, you aren’t really supposed to be alone with each other for a long periods of time. I mean, it’s a bit more relaxed than it used to be, but we haven’t even talked with our families about our relationship yet. And there are certain stages you are supposed to go through.”

“Like what?”

“Well, first, there is Declaration of Intent. It’s not a document or anything. The families meet and talk, in the past it would be without the couple actually present, but now, it’s for them too. After that, the families enter a sort of… gentleman’s agreement. The Heads of Houses will meet each other in public, in our case, it’s Hannah’s father and my grandmother, since she’s the regent until I am twenty-five. They will do that three or four times. It’s usually over lunch or dinner. There they will eventually come to an agreement that yes, they will indeed allow the kids to court.”

“That sounds awfully complex and old-fashioned,” Hazel commented.

“It is. Terribly so. After that there is a period of Courtship. In the past it would last up to about six months, if the families were generous. That’s the time for the couple to get to know each other, since they often wouldn’t meet until that point. It would be followed by Joining Agreement, which basically means the heads of the families formally agree and sign a statement that the couple will marry if the next stage is successful. Breaking it carries some monetary penalties, but it used to even lead to a blood feud back in the days. That stage is Contract Negotiations. After the contract is agreed on and signed, you are basically engaged and the bonding preparation can start. That part is Declaration of Marriage and you supposed to announce the signing of the contract and the date of bonding in the papers. You get a couple more months of preparations, and then you have the Bonding Ceremony.”

“If I may, it sounds awful. Dreadful really. I’d hate to be a part of this.”

“Yeah,” admitted Neville. “The Blacks used to limit courtship to a month. And back in our parents days, you wouldn’t be left alone with your future spouse until you were bonded. The families followed the steps, but so-called Preliminary Contracts were already signed in the kids’ childhoods, so… you know, no choice whatsoever. Draco Malfoy had a Preliminary Contract with Pansy Parkinson. Of course, it all fell apart due to the war, but otherwise, they would be likely forced to get married. I’m surprised that they didn’t in all honesty.”

“Dreadful. Horrible. I would never want to be part of it.”

“It’s not that bad,” Neville sighed. “Some of the traditions are actually quite romantic. And the courtship can be a very engaging, if you are allowed at least some freedom. But, yes, most of it is quite awful. Funny thing is, after the war, a resurgence of Preliminary Contracts have occurred. A lot of Purebloods, who were almost abandoning this stuff, are now returning to them.”

“Why would anyone want to return to that?” asked Hazel quite shocked.

“I think it’s mostly because they fear that all their traditions are being thrown out. That the Muggleborns are gaining power and they are loosing what makes them wizards. At least that’s what my grandmother says. I never was much into that stuff.”

“So, did Andromeda break the Joining Agreement?”

“No, Preliminary Contract. It carries monetary penalties too and may end up in ending the alliance of two houses. So, usually…”

“It’s cheaper and better for the house to disown your kid,” Hazel finished. “Andy mentioned that part.”

“Yes, but during Contract Negotiation you must negotiate in good faith. If you don’t, the consequences may be even worse. Although, if it’s the kid’s fault, you can still disown them and avoid them. Sometimes, like with Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy, what happened was that once Andromeda was disowned, Arcturus Black put forth Narcissa instead and Abraxas Malfoy agreed, so the contract still went ahead. Only they were move back to Courtship stage. Probably the best result you can expect from breaking one of those rules. It was seen as quite generous on Malfoy’s part.”

“Generous? Replace one broodmare with another for allies and favors?”

“Well, sort of. It’s tradition and had been for a long time. It won’t change overnight, and I actually wouldn’t mind taking part, if the families agree that Hannah and I can go through it. It’s not that bad.”

“How do you know all this?”

“It’s part of early education for heir of noble families. All kids of noble families really. Both the process and the politics around it.”

“If you say so,” Hazel said a bit overwhelmed with all the details. “So, your grandmother and Hannah’s father have to agree to all this.”

“Yeah, pretty much. My grandma had been dropping hints for months.”

“Sorry, mate.”

“No need. I am sure I will survive a bit of traditional talks. And a marriage contract. I don’t see a reason why they wouldn’t agree now. If they had objections, they wouldn’t let us date for so long.”

“Hmmm… So you are thinking that Hannah won’t agree to go on holidays until what? Until the Courtship or the Joining Declaration?”

Neville cringed.

“Declaration of Marriage and Joining Agreement. Technically, she shouldn’t agree until we are bonded, but at the very least until the Declaration of Marriage.”

“You gonna wait a long time for that holidays of yours,” muttered Hazel.

“I know. Especially since, I wanted to wait with the marriage until we both have our masteries.”

“I know you boys are a bit slow on the uptake, Nev, but Hannah loves you. You should probably just talk to her.”

Neville groaned.

“Thanks for that. At least she’s not angry with me anymore, since I’ve done some serious groveling for not talking to her before accepting the research assistant position.”

Hazel rolled her eyes.

“Really slow on the uptake,” she muttered teasingly.

***

Finally, the last of her exams was over and Hazel stumbled into her house on early Friday evening. Her head was killing her and she was quite exhausted. 

“Mistress is back,” Tinny greeted her as soon as she landed in her living room.

“Hi, Tinny!”

“Does Mistress need anything?” the little elf asked.

“I would appreciate it, if you could run me a bath.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Hazel probably shouldn’t have gotten another elf. Hermione was still throwing her disapproving looks, whenever she was around. Unfortunately, the upkeep of her entire house was straining for Kreacher and the old elf didn’t really have a lot of experience helping out with young children like Teddy. Apparently, Walburga Black had sold all the other elves apart from him after the disappearance of Regulus Black.

She got upstairs and dropped all her clothing on the floor. It would disappear before she could even step out of the bath and some replacement clothes would appear instead. It was seriously creepy the fist time that happened to her, but at the time Kreacher was trying desperately to please her when she moved back to refurbished Black Mannor.

At first she tried to stop him from going into her bathroom and bedroom, however she lost the battle of will against the elf soon after when Saint Mungo got overwhelmed with Auror casualties taken in battle with the last remaining groups of Snatchers. She was working to exhaustion for two weeks and the elf’s help was probably the only reason her house didn’t end up looking a complete mess in the meantime. Soon after she purchased Tinny to help out Kreacher in appreciation for his help. She had slowly adjusted to ignoring the elves going everywhere regardless of her state of undress.

The prepared bath was the perfect temperature as always with about a metric ton of bubbles, just as she liked it. Hermione might argue it was slavery, but the elves seemed to draw genuine happiness from working for Hazel, and she treated them as best as she could.

The hot water and pleasant smells slowly helped with the headache as did the tea left next to the bath. Hazel would have to thank Tinny and Kreacher for their thoughtfulness later. She flicked her hand and the gramophone started playing _Scorpions’_ album.

Music had lately become her constant companion in the empty house on Grimmauld Place. And now, she had two weeks to do nothing. Her supervisor in Saint Mungo - the Chief Mediwitch of Long Term Children’s Ward Agatha Lommers - had kicked her out of the hospital for two weeks of holidays after the exams. She had done the same last year.

The major problem was Hazel had literally nothing else to do apart from work and study. That would signal a very lonely two weeks for her. Unless… unless she volunteered for the free clinic. Lommers wouldn’t be able to forbid her from doing that, would she? 

And if she filled the rest of the time with taking care of Teddy and relieving some of the pressure on Andromeda… she might just succeed in passing the time.

“That doesn’t sound entirely hopeless,” she muttered to herself, gulping down the rest of her tea.

For now, she would do what she had promised herself. Hermione had helped her enchant a Muggle TV and a DVD player to work at Grimmauld. Hazel didn’t understand completely how she had done it, but somehow the girl had succeeded in making them work.

It was always her dream in her early childhood to be allowed to watch the cartoons and movies just as Dudley did, and now she had her chance.

Hermione had recommended a movie _Star Wars_ and Hazel had a vague recollection of Dudley and his friends gushing enthusiastically about the series. She had purchased the three movies and sworn that she would watch them after her exams.

As her headache disappeared, Hazel finished her bath and went to set it all up in the living room.

She managed to remember Hermione’s instructions and the movie soon came on screen. The only thing to deal with before starting it was dealing with her nagging hunger. She had not eaten since breakfast and was now feeling her stomach rebelling.

“Maybe I should grab some take-out, instead of waiting for Kreacher and Tinny to cook me something,” she mused. The elves could be rather elaborate in their efforts and a dinner took them way too long than Hazel was willing to wait. Her days of forced starvation were long over.

Her thoughts were interrupted, when a sharp knock on the front door echoed in the house.

“I’ll get it, Kreacher,” she shouted into the void, grasping her wand in her hand. There were not a lot of people who knew her address. All were wizards and could apparate and use floo. So who the hell would be knocking on her door on a Friday night?

She walked towards the door with apprehension, signing to the song as it played to calm down the tightened nerves that were on a verge of fight or flight response.

_ Across the desert plains _

_ Where nothing dares to grow _

_ I taught you how to sing _

_ You taught me everything I know _

_ And though the night is young _

_ And we don’t know if we’ll live to see the sun _

_ The best is yet to come _

_ I know, you know _

_ That we’ve only just begun _

_ Through the highs and lows _

_ And how can I live without you _

_ You’re such a part of me _

_ And you’ve always been the one _

_ Keeping me forever young _

_And the best is yet to come*_

As the door revealed Duke Severus Prince in jeans, T-shirt and a faded lather jacket, Hazel thought for a second she had an exhaustion-induced hallucinations. His expression was completely blank, but he seemed a bit more tired than usual. 

She lowered her wand and the tension left her. It was unlikely he was an impostor. No impostor of Severus Prince would dress in Muggle clothes. Or, you know, knock on the door instead of apparating or using floo.

“ _The soldiers never die, they just fade away?**_ ” he commented on her choice of music. He looked like he didn’t quite know why he was there. He wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, but Hazel’s stare focused on a bag in his hands. It was from her favorite take-out place that she had taken him after the Order and DA party a few weeks back.

“That’s my favorite take-out,” she stated as she stopped the music with a wave of her wand.

Severus looked down at the bag.

“I didn’t know that.”

Hazel put her wand back into its holster on her wrist. She had taken to wearing one after the war, and pretty much only took it off to sleep or to bathe. 

What the hell was Severus Prince doing there anyway? And how could he have guessed that she would be hungry anyway? Or home at all?

“Doesn’t matter. You brought food. You can be the Dark Lord reborn for all I care,” she said finally, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside.

Severus looked even more stunned at her words than at her actions, but he schooled his feature as Hazel shut the door.

“That is rather irresponsible of you,” he mentioned.

“How many people exactly know my favorite take-out? Or my address?” she asked leading him into the living room with the TV. Severus’ eyes flickered towards the screen, but he didn’t comment.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“One for the take-out. You, Hermione, Andromeda and Neville, so four for the address, five if we count Teddy.”

Hazel did not want anyone who didn’t have to know to be aware of where she lived immediately after the war. She had never rectified it.

“Edward Lupin is two years old,” Severus sneered.

“Precisely why I do not count him.”

“Not the Weasleys?”

“They may suspect I live here, but I own more properties than just this. I limited the number the only the people who absolutely needed to know. You, Hermione and Neville for tri-Fidelius and Andromeda and Teddy, because they are family.”

“Tri-Fidelius? Rather uninspired name, don’t you think?”

“And yet, that is exactly what it is,” Hazel said pulling out the food. “Ah, my favorite,” she smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Severus.”

His cheeks colored lightly.

“You are welcome,” he muttered.

As Hazel took out the two meals and placed them in front of herself and Severus, she thought she probably should ask him why he was there. Did he come so that they would have sex again? It didn’t seem so, since he seemed more awkward than she had ever seen him, including that first morning, when he all but run off. He’s gotten better at hiding it the next two times, but Hazel had known Severus Prince for almost a decade at this point. And he never before looked anything but utterly calm and confident. Not at his trial, not when he killed Albus Dumbledore, not when he woke up in Saint Mungo instead of Azkaban.

“How did you exam go?” Severus asked suddenly.

“Quite well, I think,” Hazel answered between bites. She was bloody hungry. “I should pass all of them. Even Advanced Potions,” she scowled at him lightly, remembering their previous discussion. “Didn’t even need your help.”

“That’s good,” he muttered.

“How was your week?” Hazel asked, by now quite desperate to fill the awkward silence.

“Same as always. Writing and not much else. It’s a fairly decent existence.”

Severus wasn’t making it easy on her. 

“Working on another book already?”

“ _Subversive Offensive Techniques_.”

“Really?” Hazel exclaimed. “The _Subversive Defensive Techniques_ was great. It is a shame you couldn’t publish it before the war. We could have used some of that.”

Severus nodded.

“I am guessing it will be quite a while before it is out.”

“At least a year.”

Really not easy. Now that they were sitting down, he seemed reluctant to engage in a conversation. And he still wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. It was rather surreal experience. Hazel wasn’t used to this quiet, shy Severus, even in the recent weeks, when he had shown more emotions than in previous 8 years of their rocky relationship. 

“Well, I am a bit tired after my exams, and I was going to watch this Muggle movie that Hermione recommended to me. She somehow managed to set up a TV and DVD player for me. I have no idea how she managed in a old, wizarding house, but she’s clever like that.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb your evening. I will…” Severus started, but Hazel interrupted him.

“Do you want to watch it with me?” she offered.

“Watch the movie?”

“It’s supposed to be a classic from the late seventies. _Star Wars_. I don’t suppose you know it.”

“We didn’t own a TV. My father didn’t see the need for it,” he sneered at the mention of his parent. “I did watch some TV at your grandparents, but by late seventies I was already in the care of my grandfather and he definitely did not approve of any Muggle entertainment.”

“Ah. I didn’t watch anything either. The Dursleys wouldn’t let me. I listened sometimes to Dudley watching the cartoons…” she shrugged. “Anyway, I promised myself I would watch some now that Hermione had managed to get it all working. So, are you in?”

Severus still wouldn’t quite look at her.

“Why not?” he muttered eventually.

Hazel started the movie and moved to the couch, sitting down next to Severus. The food was as tasty as usual and she focused on it as the opening text rolled through through the screen. The movie did sound interesting. An evil empire and a rebellion. A bit like her life. 

Luke’s life seemed incomparably better than hers, but still interesting.

She was so damn tired though. Her focus on the movie slowly started slipping, as she got more comfortable on the couch. She managed to catch the starship escaping Tatooine before she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.

The last thing she felt was Severus lowering her on the couch and his hand carding through her hair, as she slipped into the land of dreams. 

***

Something or… someone woke Hazel up rudely in the middle of the night. At first she couldn’t understand what it was, but then her memories of the previous evening slowly came back, as her brain adjusted to the forced lucidity, and she realized that Severus was not sleeping next to her.

She looked around and there he was.

“Severus?” Hazel asked softly. He was sitting in the corner, shacking, shivering. His knees were huddled to his chest and he was looking straight forward, his eyes flashed with fear. He obviously didn’t really see her, stuck somewhere in the past or within a nightmare.

_Panic attack_ , Hazel realized. It shouldn’t have surprised her, really.

Hazel wiped her eyes from the remainders of sleep and knelt slowly into his field of vision. Severus’ breathing was ragged, panic clear in his eyes. Whatever he saw beyond her and the dark room of Grimmauld Place was terrifying him. A nightmare, a memory, something pulled him away from the reality. 

“Severus? It’s alright. Everything will be alright in just a few minutes, I promise,” she muttered gently, moving closer to him, as if approaching a cornered animal. “Just keep breathing, ok? I will be right here.”

“One day at a time, right? We will get through this,” Hazel said calmly moving a bit closer. She tried to remember everything that Jeremy Hill had ever told her about panic attacks and their victims.

_ Don’t trivialize. Move slowly. Provide comfort. Speak softly and gently. Don’t leave unless the victim requests it and is safe. Preferably, don’t leave at all. Assure them that they are safe. _

She tried to remember what it felt like without triggering one in herself.

_ Terror. The pain in her chest. Difficultly breathing. _

He jerked violently as she tried to touch him and Hazel steadily moved her hand back. He seemed to try to fade into the wall. To hide from everyone and everything.

_It has to be slower_ , Hazel thought to herself.

She reached out once more, even slower than before. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he grasped her offered hand into his tightly. Hazel slowly moved her thumb in circles, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. 

Severus looked up and met her eyes. They weren’t shining with panic as much anymore and he seemed to know where he was, a clear sign that he was calming down.

“It’s alright. You are safe,” she whispered, moving towards him. “Breath with me, Severus. I am here. It will get better soon,” she kept whispering gently as she moved gently stroke his hand with her thumb. 

Severus seemed to break free of whatever held him. His next movement was quick, almost too quick. He grasped her around her waist and pulled her to him, hiding his face in her neck.

“Everything is alright. You are fine. Perfectly fine,” Hazel continued her mutterings, as she carded her hand through Severus’ hair.

He was muttering something now, but she could barely make it out. She went silent for a moment and then heard him.

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

“It’s alright, Severus,” she said gently, continuing the slow movements of her hand through his hair. “I forgive you. You’re forgiven. Nothing to be sorry for anymore.”

Hazel didn’t know how long she knelt there, with Severus clutching her. It took a long time, before his ragged breaths evened out and his grasp lessened. And even then, she didn’t stop her slow comforting strokes through his hair.

“Are you better now?” she asked a couple minutes later.

Severus only nodded against her.

“Good… That’s good. We should move to the bedroom. It will be more comfortable there, ok?”

The man nodded again and Hazel gently extricated herself from his hold, although she did not let go of his hand.

“Let’s go,” she muttered and kissed his head.

They managed to get to her bedroom without any incidents, although Severus hand had tightened almost painfully around hers as they walked.

Severus let her go as they were getting into bed, removing his clothes and laid down a couple of inches next to her, carefully not touching. He was laying on his stomach with his face hidden in the covers.

“Stupid man,” Hazel muttered and she moved closer to him, laying her arm around his back. He was stiff and unresponsive for a while. As the man grew more and more relaxed with her presence, his arms sneaked around her and he embraced her tightly. Easier than she predicted. “See, I am not to bad…” Hazel laughed weakly.

Severus didn’t respond, but Hazel did not expect him to. The woman waved her hand and the soft, rock music started playing. It was the next song on the vinyl. _Winds of Change***_. How… appropriate.

“I am sorry,” Hazel heard Severus muttering into her ear.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for, Sev’rus.”

He jerked against her, as if in discomfort. She could guess what he was thinking. So many things that had gone wrong in her life were the consequences of the events in which he had partaken.

“I do not blame you for anything any longer, do you understand? Not today, not for before. I have a long standing relationship with panic attacks.”

He tightened his hold again as if telling her that he understood that wasn’t all she wasn’t blaming him for.

“Never apologize for those. And you are forgiven. For all my forgiveness counts.”

“It does,” the man said with a raspy voice. “It does count.”

“Good,” Hazel stroke his back lightly. “Tomorrow, it will all look better.”

Severus scoffed.

“It will,” she insisted. “It will be better, brighter day. The birds will sing and the sun will shine and we will all be a tiny bit happier.”

He scoffed again. Hazel could hear the disbelieving, are-you-mental undertone in the sound.

“Do you want to…” _talk about it?_ Hazel wasn’t really sure she wanted to talk about it. The horrors that plagued him were likely even more terrifying than the ones that plagued her. She didn’t finish her sentence aloud, but Severus guessed what she was going to ask.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Ok.”

They didn’t speak after that and eventually both faded into the land of dreams.

***

“No, I don’t wanna!” Hazel protested, as the bed shifted under her and her source of warm disappeared.

“I will be right back,” a male voice muttered and true to his word, the warm body settled next to her a couple minutes later. Hazel moved like a cat and wrapped herself around the body as tightly as she could.

“Bloody Gryffindors,” the same male voice muttered, as he moved to find more comfortable position. Hazel didn’t care much for his protests and snuggled up closer, nuzzling at the warm skin.

“Comfy,” she mumbled.

“Oh, are you? Good for you, since any sort of proper articulation seems to have left you. Not that you were ever particularly well-spoken.”

Hazel place a sloppy kiss on his shoulder in response. He was probably annoyed due to his panic attack. Guys would perceive that as showing weakness, wouldn’t they?

Severus sighed.

“I seem to have lost all of my powers to anger you.”

“Not all,” she mumbled. “Just your juvenile, sarcastic comments.”

“Juvenile?!” Severus jerked violently.

“Mhm… very juvenile. Stop moving,” she frowned still half asleep.

“I am not juvenile!” Severus protested.

“Mhm…”

“Are you planning on getting up?” he asked irritably.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” unfortunately Severus attempts at conversation where pulling her out of world of dreams fast.

“The days when I had somewhere to be are mercifully over.”

“Were you always this bloody articulate? Even at dawn?” she asked irritably.

“ _Eloquence is a painting of the thoughts.****_ ”

“Thank you for confirming my assumption,” Hazel muttered. She looked up at the clock and groaned when she noticed it was only eight o’clock. She didn’t really want to get up from her comfortable position. It was rather unexpected that the grumpy, closed off man like Severus would let her basically commandeer his body as her pillow.

“Are you going to work today?” Severus asked.

“Unfortunately not.”

“Unfortunately?”

“My supervisor has ordered me to take two weeks off and said she would kick me out of the hospital if I dared to show up,” she said frustrated. “Apparently, I am supposed to be overworked with the Uni and almost a full schedule as a Mediwitch.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“Volunteer in the free clinic probably. They always need extra hands and maybe take Teddy off Andromeda’s hands for a few days. She would probably like a couple of quiet days. Fortunately, my supervisor cannot kick me out of the free clinic. Maybe there are some more spots for the Azkaban visits.”

“Doesn’t volunteering for exactly the same job as you normally perform and taking care of two year old defeat the purpose of resting?”

Hazel glared at him.

“It was a simple question, Potter. I am sure it wasn’t beyond your limited comprehension.”

“So what if it does, asshole?” she asked angrily getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. She was now quite irritated at his comments. Who the hell did he think he was?

“I was only pointing out that you passed out ten minutes into the movie.”

“I don’t think it is any of your business, Severus.”

“Perhaps not, however I do have this annoying habit of pointing out the self-destructive tendencies you do have. Comes from protecting you for most of your life. I will try to get rid of it.”

Hazel huffed. Well, that was probably true. Her annoyance dispersed a bit. 

“Why don’t you do what other young people do when they get the time off?” he suggested standing in the bathroom door.

“I watched a movie!” Hazel protested.

“ _I_ watched a movie. _You_ collapsed during the title scene.”

“And what would those things be?” she turned to him, realizing that they had both removed all their clothes the night before and she blushed lightly. It was bloody stupid to be embarrassed to be naked in front of a guy who had seen her so multiple times, but she couldn’t quite help it.

“Don’t look at me. I am not twenty and I doubt you would like to engage in the activities I have taken part in when I was.”

“Why not?”

“I was a loyal Death Eater at twenty,” Severus looked at her as if she was slow-witted.

“Wasn’t that your job though?”

“Not really. Unless you call hunting Muggles for sport a job. Or partaking in Lucius’ infamous drinking nights.”

“At least the latter didn’t change. Although I doubt the pub crawl that DA goes on every month would be up to standards of Lucius Malfoy,” she said, ignoring the _hunting Muggles_ part. Severus was long removed from that twenty year old.

The man raised his eyebrows at her.

“I don’t drink,” she stated firmly. “The bloody Ministry pompous, not-so-secret cabal of dimwits being an exception.”

“I know,” Severus’ eyes went to the bathroom cupboard where she kept her anti-anxiety and anti-depressive potions.

“Of course, you know,” she sighed. “Bloody Potion-Master-spies,” she said with a bit of resignation in her voice. “Anyway, I went twice this past year and lasted only about two hours. Hermione said last year that at the three-four hour mark the crawl part becomes an uncomfortable reality.”

“I have no doubt. Twenty year old Gryffindors aren’t known for their restraint.”

“It’s not just Gryffindors, but the boys especially aren’t good at controlling their alcohol intake and some of the things they say are even worse. Rantings against Slytherin and Purebloods and Death Eaters that make me mad.”

Severus didn’t answer, but she hadn’t expect him to.

“And Hermione is working as much as I do. And if you even suggest I should hang out with Ron, I am going to curse you.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that. And it’s no surprise that the Hogwart’s resident Know-It-All is trying to outperform you in the grand contest _Who is going to get themselves admitted to Saint Mungo’s with exhaustion first_?”

Hazel glared at him.

“Alright, Mister I-am-the-smartest-person-in-the-room-and-I-know-it. What do you do for leisure?”

Severus frowned and jerked, as if he didn’t expect the question to be turned against him.

“I play chess,” he answered, but it very much lacked any conviction.

“Oh, really? Against yourself?”

“Of course not!”

“So, who was your last opponent?” Severus shifted awkwardly. She hit a nail. “Let me guess. Albus Dumbledore.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted softly.

Hazel decided not to press him on this point. It was probably in poor taste bringing up the name of their mentor.

“Don’t worry. I only know this, because Kingsley was complaining about you being completely inaccessible since the war, only talking to the Headmistress and your publisher. And at least Professor McGonagall doesn’t play chess. Well, actually, he was complaining both you and I were checked out of the society.”

“Kingsley obviously cannot keep his mouth shut. How unsurprising.”

“We both do have the same… comrades-in-arms… friends… They don’t have a very wide pool of people to talk honestly to. And he doesn’t have an easy job.”

“We do have commonalities in our… social circles,” Severus acknowledged. “And the difficulty of his job does not excuse our enlightened Minister continuously trying to rope me into helping him out.”

Hazel stepped into the shower and turned the water on, leaving the door opened and Severus followed her in. Hazel resumed the conversation as they sat down for breakfast. Kreacher once more did his damned best to impress Severus. 

“So, what do wizards actually do for fun?” Hazel asked. “I mean they cannot all drink, play Quidditch and read books all the time?”

“You do realize that I have been a teacher in a high school for twenty years, in addition to being a spy for two sides and any time I had I spent researching in order to prevent my own untimely death?”

Hazel looked at him.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I have a vague idea,” muttered Severus. “Don’t you know?”

“Not really. I am not entirely sure even that I want to join wizarding hobbies. I get mobbed every time I go anywhere. And I have spent most of my time in the Wizarding World being a child soldier and dodging Voldemort,” she responded. Severus still flinched at hearing the name. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Severus waved her off. “Try something Muggle.”

“I won’t ask you to suggest anything, since you obviously haven’t even seen a movie since 1960s,” Hazel muttered sarcastically.

“I have not lived in a Muggle world since I was sixteen. You have lived there as recently as three years ago.”

“I wasn’t allowed,” Hazel shrugged. “I know movies and Dudley had some games on a computer I think, but I have never touched the thing. I wouldn’t have an idea where to even start.”

“Perhaps Miss Granger can assist you.”

That wasn’t a bad idea, but then a thought hit Hazel.

“It’s fucking sad, isn’t it?”

Severus jerked, put down the scone he was covering with butter and looked at her with a bit of surprise and confusion mixed in his gaze.

“That we are barely functional people, that is,” she followed up.

“You will find that I am at least moderately successful in life in the recent years.”

“Professionally, no doubt,” Hazel agreed. “But the only thing we can actually do… we know how to do… is to fight. You cannot name a single thing people do outside of work for fun. I can only name a few I learned while listening from my cupboard to Dudley doing those things.”

“There were a lot of other people who fought in that war.”

“Yes, but almost everybody else had semi-normal lives outside of the war. Hermione, the Weasleys, I am sure Draco and other Slytherins as well. They had… I don’t know… stuff outside of war and Hogwarts… friends… whatever wizards actually do for fun. You know a life before the war. Which for most continued after it.”

Severus looked at her as if he saw her for the first time.

“What?” Hazel asked after a couple of seconds of silence.

“Unimportant.”

“So, no, I don’t know what people do other than work or study or fight. I can play Quidditch, but that’s about it. I don’t even have a broom anymore. I lost it during my escape from the Dursleys. Therefore, I am going to do the same thing I have done for the last two years when forced to take holidays. I am going to do unpaid work, so that it will pass time until I can return to my regular job.”

“As you wish,” Severus shrugged. “If you would like to finish, what…” he gritted his teeth, “ _Voldemort_ started, be my guest.”

Severus was a bastard. Hazel knew that obviously. He would know exactly what to say to make her angry for so many years that it wasn’t surprising that he could still manage to manipulate her, even if these days she simply disregarded all his jibs at her intelligence.

“Fine, you win! I will think about it” she growled.

He smirked. 

Asshole. We’ll see how you like this, Hazel thought angrily to herself.

“And when I do find something, you are doing it too.”

“I am sorry, I wasn’t aware I was a part of that.”

“Now, you are. It’s your fault I am even considering it, therefore you are also going to participate in this disaster.”

“I have obligations,” he protested.

“No, you don’t,” Hazel waved him off. “All you do is you write books and articles. And you probably have enough material from the last twenty years to throughly revolutionize any Dark Magic treatments currently in existence and introduce ones everyone thinks impossible. That is after you finish schooling Aurors on their training methods. Besides, you said so yourself not an hour ago. The days when I had somewhere to be are mercifully over.”

Severus stared at her blankly.

“A couple hours won’t kill you.”

“Muggle stuff?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes. Only Muggle stuff. I don’t want to be mobbed just to have fun.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said carefully after a long pause.

“Great. First we can finish the Star Wars.”

“I have already watched it,” Severus reminded her.

“Only the first one.”

“Are there more of those?”

“Yes, two more. _The Empire Strikes Back_ and _The Return of the Jedi_.”

“Fine,” he said a bit grudgingly. He agreed to her plan quite easily though. Another clue that he was just as lonely as she was.

***

Navigating the Muggle World to find something interesting to do turned out to be way more difficult than Hazel imagined. There were so many stores, places, things she had little to no experience with, all advertising, all screaming at her. She knew where to buy clothes, but that was about it. Everything else might have as well be in a foreign language with letters she couldn’t even identify.

On some level, Hazel knew how to operate in the Muggle environment. She knew about the money, groceries, shops, cars, public transport, schools. But leaving it all behind at eleven and being a virtual prisoner before that, she realized there was a lot of things she missed in her education.

“Hi Hazel!” Dudley walked up to her followed by a bunch of young men. The meeting was her idea to get more understanding of how the Muggle World worked beyond the basics.

“Hi, cousin!”

“This is your cousin, man?” one of the guys asked, looking her up and down. “You didn’t tell us your cousin was so pretty!”

“Yes, Hazel, this is James, Michael, Thomas and Nicolas,” he pointed to his friends with a light blush on his face. “We study together at the Brunel.”

The boys nodded politely at her, apart from one.

“Hey, Hazel,” the same guy, Nicolas, said. “How do you do?”

“Pretty good, and you?”

“Better with each second,” he winked at her. “What do you do after you lunch with Dudley?”

“I am going to work.”

She wasn’t really working that day, but the guy didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, such a shame,” he lamented. “What about going out with me on Friday?”

“Sorry, Nicolas, I am dating someone,” she lied easily. 

“Oh, my poor heart will never recover,” he said, grabbing his chest theatrically.

“Hey, dude. Move back, this is my cousin you are talking to!” Dudley warned him.

“Alright, alright, Dudley! We are going to leave you to your lunch. Come by later, I am going to drown my sorrows in a couple of beers at the pub on the other side of the street.”

Dudley’s friends left them to claim a table on the opposite side of the restaurant. Hazel and Dudley ordered some random food. 

“Sorry about that. Nick is a bit of a dick. He always tries to pick up girls.”

Hazel waved him off.

“Not your fault,” she muttered.

“So, are you really dating someone or did you just lie so that he would leave you alone?”

“Complicated, but no. I am not really dating.”

“Ok,” he said. “And how are you doing in general?” he asked a bit awkwardly. “I haven’t seen you in what six months?”

“Pretty much,” Hazel agreed. “Sorry about that. I have been a bit busy with my studies. And my work at the hospital.”

“Right. Your medicine. It’s alright. I am glad you still agree to meet with me anyway.”

“Your my cousin Dudley. Regardless of what had happened between us in the past. I will try to be better about visiting with you. Do you still live with your parents?”

Dudley looked relieved.

“Nah, I moved this term to the dorms with Michael. The commute was too much,” he shrugged.

“I am sure Aunt Petunia was happy about it,” Hazel snickered, as the waitress placed the full plates in front of them.

“Not really, but dad said everyone has to have a real university experience.”

“How’s your major? Engineering was it?”

“Yes, Electronics Engineering. It’s pretty awesome, actually. I am doing quite well. I think nobody thought that I would be a good student, you know? That I only got in because of boxing, but I think I am going to drop boxing after bachelor. I mean it was cool, but I don’t think I want to get beaten up for the rest of my life. Besides, Michael says that it can really affect your brain and such.”

Huh, Dudley was really growing up. It wasn’t as astonishing as it had been when she was seventeen, but nonetheless it took her a bit by surprise.

“Yeah, getting hit on the head too many times isn’t probably good for you.”

“Yeah, we checked it out, you know, read some research.”

Dudley reading research to check the consequences of his choices. Now, that was really unexpected.

“Michael sounds like a good guy,” she commented offhandedly.

“He totally is!” Dudley exclaimed a bit animated. “Great guy. I met him the first day on the campus, you know? And we immediately hit it off.”

“That’s great, Dudley. I am glad you found good friends at Brunel.”

“Yeah, and what about you? How’s school treating you?” he asked with just a bit of caution.

“I like it. Our medicine department is quite demanding, but I am learning a lot at the same time working at the hospital, so it’s a bit easier. I have had pretty good results this year. I am fifth in my class after four terms,” she finished proudly.

“Wow! That’s really good.”

“Yes. Now that all the troubles have subsided and I can actually focus, my studies have been going much better than when I was still in… high school,” she finished a bit clumsily. It was tough to always have to translate the wizarding terms, but they were in a public space and Dudley still wasn’t quite comfortable with the Wizarding World anyway.

“That’s good.”

There was still some remaining uneasiness between them, stemming from years and years of abuse Dudley’s parents and Dudley himself subjected Hazel to.

“Anyway, Dudley. I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“What do you actually do for fun? I mean in the Muggle World. I mean aside from drinking alcohol and reading books.”

Dudley looked up at her weirdly, which she admitted was probably a fair reaction to such a question.

“You mean like entertainment?” he asked and Hazel nodded. Dudley was probably the only person she felt comfortable asking, seeing as he already knew that she was ultimately detached from the world, when she was living with him and his parents. No way she was going to confirm some of Hermione’s suspicions about her family life.

“Yeah, entertainment, you know, like going to cinema or something. I don’t really have much experience with that.”

“Why are you asking? I wouldn’t think you would be interested in our entertainment.”

“I can’t really do much in our entertainment, because people mob me as soon as I appear anywhere. You know, because of the war.”

Dudley looked at her questioningly.

“I am sort of famous,” Hazel sighed. “Even trying to shop for anything, is a grueling experience,” she explained.

“Well, there is a ton of stuff you can do!” Dudley said. “You can play video games, on your own computer or in an arcade place too. You can go to an amusement park. I love those with the roller coasters. They’re awesome. Or play paintball. You have guns that shoot paint and you are supposed to shoot the other team,” he explained when Hazel shot him a blank look. “Or, you know, you can go to a museum or a concert, don’t you have those?”

“Museums. Not really. It’s not a thing. Concerts are.”

“Weird,” Dudley shrugged.

It was, actually. Hazel had never heard of a wizarding museum. Maybe it was because most of the magical artifacts were useful regardless of how old they were and they were usually hoarded by the old and wealthy families. And the paintings talked, so they could spill family secrets or something. You didn’t just get rid of your relatives’ paintings. You were more likely to burn them.

“So, what do you want to do? There is I think too much stuff to actually list it all.”

“I don’t really know. I’ve never had a chance to really find out any of that stuff.”

Dudley looked even more awkward than usual.

“Yeah… Well, maybe you can come by to my place. We can go online and you can find some cool stuff you can do in the area.”

“A computer? Isn’t that the thing you used to play your games on?”

“Yes. I can teach you how to use it.”

“What’s the Internet?*****”

“It’s this network of computers that are connected and you can find out about restaurants, museums, cinemas and so on. It’s easier if I show you. You can find anything on Google******.”

Hazel nodded lightly. This pursuit was turning out to be more difficult then she had first imagined, but she wasn’t going to give blasted _Duke Prince_ the satisfaction by giving up. She wasn’t a stubborn Gryffindor for nothing.

***

As much as Hazel wanted to pretend to forget about her promise of coming to the DA’s Pub Crawl, she readied herself for the night. She had not enjoyed it on any prior occasions, but she wasn’t about to break her word. Even if Ginny and Ron had strong-armed her into agreeing.

The night always started in the Leaky Cauldron and usually deteriorated fast into a competition to see who could drink the most beers in the shortest amount of time. Thankfully, the May meeting was the one most people attended. Some have just finished their exams, and other were thankful for taking a small break from studying, even if they usually left quite early.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted the DA members that were already gathered in the pub’s corner. Ron, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Hannah, Neville and Hermione were already there. The standard privacy bubble was already extended around them.

Hazel was surprised to see Hermione there. She had not attended almost any of the Pub Crawls in the past two years.

“Hazel! I am so glad you made it!” Ron exclaimed. “Are you staying long today?”

“I am not sure,” she said.

“Do you still have some exams?” asked Seamus.

“No, but since I have some more time now, I want to see Teddy more often.”

“He’s such a sweet child,” Hermione interjected, before anyone could comment. “It’s great that you help Andromeda with him so much.”

“Yeah, he is great. And I usually don’t get a lot of time to visit in May, as I am usually to busy with the University. I will have to catch up on building towers and reading stories, if I am to be a proper godmother.”

“Better you than I,” joked Dean. “I mean kids are all and cool, but I’d rather not have any in the nearest future.”

“Ah, Dean, kids are important,” Ron said.

“Sure, they are!” Angelina, who had just arrived accompanied by George Weasley, Katie Bell, Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet, chimed in. 

“Hey, guys!” they all said in a chorus, grabbing seats around the table. The beers appeared almost instantly in front of them. Tom had already had a lot of experience with them showing up on almost every last weekend of each month.

“So, who’s planning kids?” Alicia asked.

“No one. We were talking about my godson.”

“Ah, little Teddy,” George said. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s what… two now?”

“Yes, and he is climbing up all furniture and building block towers.”

“Ah, I can imagine the terror,” Angelina laughed.

The pub slowly filled out with the former DA members. As usual they attracted a lot of attention. One of the reasons Hazel didn’t particularly like the occasion. Thankfully, most people were too intimidated to approach this large group of war heroes and bother them.

Hazel had consciously managed to maneuver herself to a group of girls that formed as the DA started to break up due to their huge numbers.

“So, tell us, Hazel,” Parvati started. “Why did you reject the marriage proposal of your best friend?”

Hazel almost chocked on her butterbeer.

“Parvati!” her twin sister exclaimed. “You are not supposed to ask that!”

Some of the others, especially Ginny looked quite interested on the other hand.

“But I want to know!”

Hermione, who was sitting opposite Hazel rolled her eyes.

“Ron’s my friend, but I am not interested in him in that way.”

“Who are you interested in then?” Parvati pressed.

“Not Ron,” Hazel growled.

“Alright, alright. Just a question.”

“Ron’s not Hazel’s type,” said Luna wistfully and some of the other girls looked at her speculatively.

“Oh, really, so you do have a type!” Parvati said vindicated.

“What is it?” asked Ginny with barely hidden curiosity.

“I don’t have a type, Ginny. And, Parvati, drop it. I am not going to be the next subject in your radio show.”

“Oh, come on, Hazel, I at least would make a factual portrayal.”

“Sure, Parvati, I believe you. It would only be a little spiced up compared to the bullshit Rita Skeeter usually prints.”

“I only talk about verified information. But Rita did print a lot on your failed engagement,” Parvati said almost gleefully. “It’s been breaking news for almost a week!”

Hazel groaned.

“Thank Merlin I no longer read that worthless rag.”

“You are absolutely right!” Angelina concurred. “The other day she was making stuff up about Fred, George and I! All complete nonsense, but it really upset George.”

“Sorry, Angelina,” muttered Hannah. “I am sure it will blow over.”

“Yes, but since we started dating last year, Skeeter keeps coming up with outrageous stories.”

“We should sue her finally. Like all together. Maybe that should shut her up,” Susan said suddenly. “It’s really detrimental to some of our members.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Susan!” said Hannah. “I am so over seeing made up stories about myself in _The Prophet._ After the last one, I thought my father would have a stroke. He was so furious.”

“Was it the one about you and Neville about two months ago?” Ginny asked.

Rita Skeeter had made her career after the war by writing regular columns on former Order and DA members. Usually it involved a lot of speculation on indecent relationships and flaunting the traditions. And seeing as Hazel was largely inaccessible to her, she took it upon her to harass everyone else.

“Yes,” Hannah admitted.

“I hate her so much,” muttered Hermione angrily.

“You could try it my way,” Hazel offered.

“You mean disappear from the public eyes, unless there is a very formal occasion, you are required to attend,” Katie teased her.

“Yes. It mostly works. Whatever is in the papers is rarely more than the speculation.”

“You do realize it just raises the interest,” Parvati pointed out. “I am regularly hounded for any information on what you are doing, if you are courting anyone, if are going to join Wizengamot, when you are going to marry, etc., etc.”

“It's nobodies' business what I am doing. Especially when it comes to dating, courting or my marriage. I intend to keep it as private as I can manage.”

“People are starting to think you are a hermit,” Angelina said.

“I am not! I work. I study. I visit my family and show up at important events. I just don’t feel like having my life splashed across the front pages, so it take painstaking effort to avoid the possibility of being overheard or followed around. I’m just protecting my privacy.”

“I still think we should sue. We can sue as DA. It’s technically a registered organization. Or join the suits,” Susan said frowning in concentration.

“Group litigation! That definitely could work,” Hermione said enthusiastically.

“Precisely. Against Skeeter and _The Prophet_.”

“I think we could set it up, what do you think, Susan?”

Susan was also a Law Student, following her aunt’s footsteps. However, she did take a year off after the war to come to terms with the war, and now was only finishing her first year. Nobody really blamed her for doing so. She wasn’t the only one in their group either. So did Katie Bell, Terry Boot, Ernie MacMillan, Anthony Goldstein.

“It would take some work, and we would have to get a lawyer, but I think if we both work on it…”

“Do you want to join, Hazel? It would be the most effective, if we could show the longevity of Skeeter’s lies, and you have been her victim the longest of us all.”

“I do believe, you were also in the papers in our fourth year, but sure. I will join the suit.”

“Great. Sign me up too!” Angelina added.

“Same for me,” several girls added.

“We should send a letter to all DA members, I think,” Susan said. “Once we start on this. It might take a bit of time.”

“We could use the Gringott’s lawyers,” Hazel mentioned. “I use them to make sure nobody profits from… how did they put it?… my likeness without my authorization. They have been ripping apart some companies on my behalf.”

“You use Gringott’s lawyers?” Susan’s eyes went wide. “They are notoriously difficult to convince and even more difficult to afford.”

“They take some part of the winnings,” Hazel said. “They are rather effective though, if my bank statements are to be believed.”

“I am sure they are,” Katie muttered. “Not everyone can be Hazel Potter I guess.”

“Some people don’t actually like to use the goblin’s services,” Padma said. “Actually, let me rephrase that. Almost no one trusts goblins to put them in charge of their legal affairs or business affairs.”

“I don’t really get why,” Hazel shrugged. “They are damn more effective than I would ever be.”

“I think that is obvious to anyone but you, Hazel,” Hermione sighed. “People are prejudiced, because they are not human.”

“Well, I like how they are handling my affairs, so I will stick to them. If you would like to use them, I can convince them, probably. Ragnok and I have managed to come to an understanding after the war.”

“I am sure he smelled good business from a mile way,” Alicia grinned.

“Probably,” Hazel admitted. “They are rather ruthless in their pursuits, and that usually grants pretty big rewards for both them and me.”

The girls soon changed the topic back to dating and Hazel decided to grab some fresh air. She excused herself and walked out to the back of the pub. Some of the other DA members were there.

“So, what do you, guys, think of the Crawley’s murders?” Lee was asking.

“Disgusting if you ask me,” George said. “As bad as the Death Eaters have been.”

“But they were Death Eaters,” Seamus protested.

“Yeah. The eleven-year-olds totally had the marks,” Hazel snarked.

“Exactly,” George said. “I hope whoever did it gets caught and they put him in the cell right next to the Death Eaters.”

“I don’t care who did it. I think they did us all a favor,” Michael Corner said. “At least three Death Eaters less. I don’t think they should have killed the kids, but I am not going to cry over some scum eating dirt.”

“And that’s exactly the fucking problem,” Hazel growled. “Nobody cares that some good-for-nothing, pieces of scum have murdered like twenty people. It doesn’t matter who they were. Murder is wrong, regardless of who’s doing the killing. For me they are exactly the same scum, the Death Eaters were too. No difference between them at all.”

“Oh, come on Hazel, you can’t be serious. They were Death Eaters,” Ron protested. “Do you think we all should go to Azkaban for the Death Eaters we killed during the war?”

“No, it was _a war_. They had wands, we had wands. It was at least a fair fight. This was a plain, brutal murder of kids who had nothing to do with what happened. I will never condone such despicable, disgusting crime. And before you ask, I do not regret that I killed Voldemort, but I do regret that there was no other way of stopping him. If there was, I would have tried it first. And I do regret a lot of deaths that happened back then. Not Bellatrix, maybe, but Gregory Goyle for example. I wished it had not come to this.”

Ron, Dean and Seamus all scoffed.

“I don’t see why you are so upset,” Dean said. “The Death Eaters and You Know Who killed a lot more kids.”

“Because I thought we were better than them. I thought we didn’t murder innocents just for revenge. But obviously we are not. I don’t want any more death. Any more suffering. I have had enough for a lifetime,” she finished and George started clapping.

He ruffled her hair.

“Such a smart kid I have for my little sister,” he smiled ruefully at her.

Ron rolled his eyes.

“I still say they did us all a favor. There is still so many Death Eaters in hiding. Maybe if they are scared, they will be easier to catch or they won’t be willing to step out of line. It makes our world safer.”

“Or they will retaliate and the Wizarding World will once more descent into chaos,” answered Lee. “You never know, mate. Let’s change the subject and go back inside.”

“Have you heard about the Tornado’s Chaser? Apparently, they are going to revoke his contract, because he was screwing another guy,” Hazel heard Seamus’ voice before the door closed.

“Can they do that? Break the contract?” she asked after she realized George had stayed behind with her.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back against the wall. “They have this clause in the contract about proper representation of the team’s values or something. Pretty much standard in the Quidditch teams.”

“And I am guessing being gay counts as bringing shame onto the team.”

“Gay, I like it. Happy,” George muttered. “Yes, being gay means you are automatically out. Likely forever.”

“I hate DA Pub Crawls,” Hazel sighed heavily.

“Freddie was one, you know,” George said suddenly. “He never did get caught, but he had some boyfriend in another house. He wouldn’t tell me who, but… you know, he seemed happy. Gay. Happy,” he was silent for a while. “I hate DA Pub Crawls too, little sister,” he threw his arm around her.

“Sometimes, I cannot understand why it seems we are somehow drifting in the same direction as before the war, you know, George?”

“Yeah. Some days I just wish to beat my own brother until I finally beat some sense into him.”

“Get it line, mate,” Hazel chuckled wryly.

“Yeah, behind you and Charlie and Hermione and mum and dad. Even Percy is more palatable half the time. I don’t even know where he gets all this stuff from. I know we were all angry after Freddie died. I most of all. But I don’t know… What Ron’s doing lately… This hatred of his… this distaste for anything different… this casual disregard of human life…”

“I think we were too naive to think all prejudice and hatred would magically disappear once Voldemort is dead.”

“We were kids. Stupid kids. Now we know better.”

“Doesn’t make it any less disappointing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The best is yet to come, Scorpions  
> ** Quote from The best is yet to come  
> *** still Scorpions, obviously  
> **** Blaise Pascal  
> ***** In 2000, the Internet penetration of households in the UK was 25%, jumping to 36% the following year, so it is safe to assume that Dudley would be able to have a computer with internet access  
> ******* Google was launched in 1998, so possible Dudley knew about it in 2000


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely sure about this chapter. It's a bit shorter than my usual ones and it was a bit difficult to write, but I have a plan for two following ones, so there should be easier.
> 
> I am also working on another project. A much shorter one (with the same pairing, but slash), for which I already have 6.5 chapters. We will see where it goes. I might post first chapters for a trial run somewhere around June, but it is currently secondary to this story. Also, I am writing some more chapters for Life dictionary, I will hopefully finish that at some point.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Best,  
> L.

It had been two days since Severus had last seen Hazel. He had since started gathering material for his next book about Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It was a tedious task. Severus had never quite managed to get his things in order after the war. He had packed all his notes, books and research haphazardly into random boxes at Hogwarts, once he was released from Saint Mungo, trying to get away from the ruined castle as fast as it was possible in his weakened state. Then he had simply stashed them into his parent’s old bedroom.

That was his first, crucial mistake. 

The second one was not actually going through all the boxes during the writing of his first book. Or the second. Or the third. Or many articles he had published in the last two years. 

Now, every time he started a new book, he had to go through all the boxes. It was, of course, the worst when he was writing the first tome. Thankfully, he had managed to do some organizing. The boxes now were housing only a couple of topics each, instead of all of them. With each new book, he introduced more and more order.

Severus was orderly. Sometimes even extremely so. But he had never moved anywhere, apart from Hogwarts at twenty three and at the time all he had was the robe on his back and one Hogwarts trunk. He had accumulated a lot of books, papers, academic magazines over the years, and he had nowhere to fit them at Spinner’s End.

In addition to that, Pettigrew used to live in his parents’ bedroom, which Severus hated. The rat had contaminated Severus’ space with his presence, so now he generally only went into the room, when it was absolutely necessary.

He was at the task of sorting through the boxes for more than five hours when an owl started knocking on the window of the room.

Severus opened it and let it in. It wasn’t one he recognized. The bird dropped the letter at his feet and flew back out. Severus closed the window and looked at the envelope on the floor.

He didn’t get many letters. The only ones were from Minerva and his potions’ magazines subscriptions. All the other letters went to a P.O. box in Diagon that he held under a false name. The Hogwarts’ Headmistress always used her personal owl, so Severus knew it wasn’t from her. And the owl was indescriptive enough that Severus assumed it was owned by a mailing company, not a person.

He took out his wand and cast a slew of revealing charms on the envelope. Nothing came up. The letter sat innocently on the floor. Severus flipped it using magic. There was no name written on top. Only _The last house on Spinner’s End_. That was smart. No indication of whom the recipient was. It was also written in a familiar chicken scrawl that Severus had to decipher for six long years. It showed a surprising amount of forethought to protect his location from the sender.

He picked up the letter carefully and opened it.

_Dear Severus_ , it read.

_ I wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate me invading your house (if you can call it that.) Although, since you seem to have no problem invading mine, I guess I shouldn’t have bothered (well, you did bring offerings). _

_ Anyway, I managed to watch the movie without falling asleep this time and I find myself curious how it develops. So, I am going to watch the next one this Friday (I did manage to spend yesterday relaxing - that is hiking, but I don’t think I can manage many more days without work in solitude). Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to watch it with me.  _

_ You don’t have to. I know I said you also need something beside work, but I am not going to actually hold you to it. _

_ If you do, I am going to watch it around 7 on Friday. _

_ Cheers, _

_ Hazel _

Potter really should learn how to write properly. It seemed she did actually put effort to make her essays readable, because the letter was written with even less care than those.

He considered the invitation. Severus still felt quite embarrassed for completely losing his composure the last time he went to see Potter. Not that he wasn’t embarrassed about actually going there in the first place. However, he couldn’t deny that he slept much better with the blasted woman next to him. Not to mention the gentle way she had brought him out of his panic attack.

Fuck it. He obviously wanted to see the insane girl again, so he might as well see the ridiculous movie. He found some parchment and a quill on his writing desk.

_ Hazel, _

_ First of all, please learn how to write so that us, mere mortals, can actually read your letters without spending an hour trying to decipher that chicken scrawl. I have better things to do than trying to piece together your messages. I have already spent enough time trying to get through your miserable essays. _

_ Also, I will be there on Friday. Shall I feed you once more? Since you obviously seem incapable of looking after your basic needs? _

_ SS _

The problem was Severus had no way to actually send the letter. He had no owl or any other bird. And he would be damned if he used the public mailing office. He couldn’t put the address on the envelope since the house was under tri-Fidelius. He would have to put both the address and her name to enable the delivery through Fidelius. And that would jeopardize the security of her house. Something he wasn’t willing to do. 

That left buying a damned bird that would be bound to himself.

***

Diagon Alley was an annoyance on the best day. Severus entered through the Leaky Cauldron, wearing a heavy glamour charm.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” Tom greeted him. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. Just passing through,” he muttered to the man.

It was already almost dinner time and the pub was way too busy for Severus anyway. He walked through and opened the secret entrance to Diagon. Going through Leaky was another security measure Severus always employed. Both floo and apparition could be traced, however the traces of apparition deteriorated fast. Severus always apparated to a random spot in London, and then took Muggle Underground to his destination.

Most wizards, especially former Death Eaters, knew close to nothing about the Muggles, so being followed was unlikely. Severus was still careful, of course, but once you added his magical sensitivity to the mix, he could spot a wizard among Muggles without much trouble. He was followed only once, in the first months after he was released from hospital, when he didn’t yet wear glamour to Diagon. He had not expected to be mobbed. Well, not exactly. He had expected to be met with derision, hatred and distrust.

He had been met with joyful faces and requests for autographs instead. He had run like hell and had been followed until the exit from Diagon. He easily dodged his pursuers in the Muggle London.

That was when he had started taking serious precautions before visiting the Alley.

As Severus stalked towards _The Magical Menagerie_ , he noticed that the Alley was quieter than in the recent months. Certainly, there were less people than during the Battle of Hogwarts’ anniversary. He suspected that the recent murders of Crawleys had reminded the wider populace of Death Eaters still at large.

That was… well, fortunate. The less people were around, the less annoyed Severus would become. He slipped into The Magical Menagerie and the bell announced his arrival to the store clerk.

“Good afternoon, Sir. Welcome to the Magical Menagerie, the best shop if you are looking for a pet. Can I help you with anything?” he asked with about as much enthusiasm as Severus felt for venturing into the alley.

The place was empty besides Severus and the clerk. It wasn’t a high season, like the holidays, when parents bought Hogwarts’ students their first pets, but it was quiet even for off-season. The economy wasn’t recovering as well as Kingsley would have liked.

“No, thanks,” Severus grumbled. “I’ll let you know when I am ready.”

The clerk nodded.

“As you wish, Sir! You can always call on me.”

Severus wasn’t looking for a pet. Pets were for insipid children. He needed something far more important - a familiar. A familiar bond would give any bird he picked a protection that a mere pet could never have. A protection that would not jeopardize the security of his home or Hazel’s.

He walked towards the owl section of the store. There were dozens, if not hundreds of owls inside the cages. White, black, brown, gray. Anything a person could want. Severus slowly walked among the birds, feeling with his magic if any of them would make a suitable familiar.

Nothing stood out for him. None of the animals was particularly suitable for him. They were more of pets for children than candidates for a familiar. Why could nothing in his life be easy? The owls hooted as he walked past. He returned to the clerk’s desk.

“What other delivery birds do you have apart from owls?” he asked.

“Well, Sir. We have ravens, eagles, augureys, vultures, falcons, hawks but they are in the other room,” the man pointed towards the closed door. Severus had seen it, however he assumed it wasn’t a public part of the store. “You can go in if you want to. We don’t keep the more unusual animals here because of the children.”

“Why would that be a reason?” Severus’ eyebrows lifted slightly.

“Try convincing a child that an owl is cooler than an eagle or a falcon and then we can talk,” the clerk yawned. “The parents were quite unhappy with the store before we separated the exhibitions. The animals are quieter too.”

Severus rolled his eyes. If one couldn’t control their own child, they shouldn’t have become parents in the first place. And wasn't it obvious that rats or frogs or crups wouldn't enjoy the various predators would being in their close proximity? They probably didn't appreciate the owls as it was.

He turned on his heel and walked to the other room. No point talking to the useless dimwit of a clerk.

The additional room was even larger than the main one. There were all manner of animals stuffed in small cages on top of each other, restricted in their movements. Severus was unimpressed with how the shop's owners and clerks took care of their non-human charges, but there was little he could do to combat animal cruelty. 

He directed his steps towards the carnivorous bird section. Those would be able to fight off any attacker better than a crow would.

A small, young peregrine falcon drew his attention. The bird had brownish feathers and intelligent seeming gaze. It was sitting, unmoving in its cage, observing Severus stiffly. The only bird in the store that didn't react to his presence with loud noises.

“You are a weird one,” every other bird was reacting to his intrusion into the room. Severus let his magic wash over the young falcon, and was pleasantly surprised when the bird simply turned fully towards him, regarding his carefully.

“I think you will do,” Severus decided. It took but a moment to establish the initial bond. Severus, of course, did not force the bird, he offered. He knew slavery, being caged. He wasn’t about to force a living creature into that. No, it would be a partnership, not ownership.

The bird accepted his magic. It was obviously used to it being all around him, as all the animals should be in the shop. They were all _supposedly_ coming from magical breeders, but Severus seriously doubted that after seeing the care they were receiving.

Severus opened the cage and the bird moved onto his arm.

“What shall I name you?” Severus asked the falcon. “Perhaps Plato?”

The bird looked towards him and then made a jump onto Severus’ shoulder.

“Plato, it is,” Severus agreed. “If you touch my hair, I’ll put you in my next potion,” he threatened.

He wasn’t sure if the bird understood him or just wasn’t that interested, but it stayed calmly perched on Severus’ shoulder.

He returned to the clerk.

“This one?” the man asked. “He’s a bit of a weirdo.”

“I am not here to hear your evaluation of my taste,” Severus sneered at him. “Get me a perch for the bird and ring me up. I don’t have all day.”

The clerk huffed in annoyance, but did as Severus requested. A few minutes later Severus exited the shop. He was about to turn back towards the Leaky Cauldron, when a familiar face appeared among the few wizards running errands on the street.

The blond, almost white hair, the blue eyes. It couldn’t be anyone but Draco Malfoy. Severus turned around and followed the boy.

The young man turned towards Nocturne Alley. That, in and of itself, wasn’t surprising. The boy was intimately familiar with the street and its businesses. Unfortunately, he was also on parole. And that meant he shouldn’t have gone there. The aurors did not look kindly on those who came back to their old habits.

Draco was careless, as he walked towards _The Red Rose_. A strip club-slash-brothel famous for catering to the baser impulses. Drugs, girls, alcohol, whatever one wanted and had enough coin to pay for. The last place Draco should be seen at, if he wanted to build any sort of life.

Plato, still on his shoulder, kakked* l oudly. Severus couldn’t very well take the bird inside. He took out the letter to Hazel and gave it to the bird. 

“Come back to Spinner’s End with a response,” he said. The bird grabbed the envelope and flew off.

Severus finally followed his godson inside. It wasn’t even that difficult. Draco seemed oblivious to the world. The interior of _The Red Rose_ was the exact opposite of _The Magical Managerie_. It was busy, crowded and noisy. The walls were painted with dark red and black. The red lights only illuminated the scene, so it was easy to stay in the shadows. It was stuffy, uncomfortable and smelled of booze and sex. And not the good kind, no. More of sweaty, smelly bodies in dirty toilets. It was't even a good strip club.

The patrons were currently watching a performance of pole-dancing from a few young looking witches and the music was being blasted from the speakers placed around the room.

Draco did not appear to be interested in the show. Instead he walked towards the corner of the room. He joined two men at the table in one of the booths. Severus didn’t know either of them, but they looked inconspicuous enough. They wore decent robes, but not overly flashy. They seemed like middle class working wizards out for a bit of fun. Not that watching women stripping was something Severus considered entertainment.

One of them was dark haired, in his mid thirties, the other looked a bit younger, with light brown hair.

Severus disillusioned himself in the corner of the room and sat down in the empty booth next to them. It was almost too easy to fall back into his spying habits.

A girl, dressed only in provocative underwear and heels, tried to entice Draco, but the young man smacked her on her bottom, and send her away.

“Back so soon?” the unfamiliar, younger man drawled.

“None of your business,” Draco snarled. “Do you have the merchandise?”

“Of course,” the guy answered. “How much do you need?”

“Twenty,” Draco said sharply.

“Show me the money,” the man ordered and Draco dropped a purse on the table. It clanged clearly with coins as it hit the flat surface.

The older of the two sellers opened the purse and looked inside. Severus didn’t see the contents, but he could guess them easily.

The younger man stood up and walked towards an innocuous looking door. He opened them with a key and disappeared beyond them.

“You came back fast, Mister Malfoy,” the older man observed.

“I do not think that is your business,” Draco said imperiously.

“As you say. You’ve got the money, we’ve got the product. Perhaps we should start home delivery. We wouldn’t want you to be inconvenienced by the Auror Corps. After all, you are on parole.”

“I can take care of my own business,” Draco snarled. “No need to worry.”

“Mister Malfoy, we care about the comfort of our customers, and you are now one of them.”

“What you care for is my money,” Draco said in a mocking tone.

“Of course, I have never stated otherwise. However, your comfort is how I get your money,” the man grinned wolfishly.

Severus wondered what the hell was that about. Draco was obviously breaking the conditions of his parole. That alone was bad enough, but what was he doing? Severus just hoped that Draco wasn’t trying to reconnect with former Death Eaters and make trouble. He didn’t want to have to stand opposite of his godson.

The younger man returned with a pouch. It was like the ones Severus used for potions’ ingredients, much cheaper than his standard, but nonetheless.

Draco grabbed the pouch.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Always pleasure doing business with you.”

Severus almost groaned. Was Draco brewing something illegal? Severus hoped to all Gods he wasn’t. He couldn’t report him, but that sort of violation was very serious. Would he always have to save the juvenile idiots from themselves?

Draco nodded to the men and took off towards the door. Severus waited a couple seconds and walked behind him. He was still disillusioned, so he had to be careful not to bump into anyone. By the time he got out through the door, Draco was disappearing behind the corner. Severus run behind him.

It didn’t take long for Draco to take a detour into a side street. Severus stood back in the shadows and watched. The blond looked around and when he saw no one, he opened the pouch. He put one finger inside and Severus watched in horror as he took out bluish powder and rubbed it into his gums.

Dragon’s Powder. A powerful, wizarding drug…

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he snarled at the boy, taking off his glamour and disillusionment all at once. Draco looked around, shocked, noticing Severus.

“You,” Draco’s high hadn’t hit yet, and he sneered with contempt at Severus. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he put the pouch away.

“Dragon’s Powder, Draco? Are you fucking serious?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” he hissed.

“None of my business, is it?” he quickly looked around. They were in public. If someone saw them arguing, Draco would be shipped off to Azkaban. He put up a privacy charm with a wave of his hand. “It’s none of my fucking business that you are doing drugs?”

“No, traitor. None of your fucking business.”

“Draco, look at what you are doing with your live. Look at yourself… you are wasting away,” Severus said sharply. “You were one of my best students! And now what! Chasing high?! You haven’t done anything with yourself!”

“You are not my father! You are nothing to me!” Draco shouted. “You left us when we most needed you! You turned traitor! For what?! For Potter and the Gryffindors?! Where were you when we were fighting the war?! Fighting for the other side!”

Severus jerked back.

“Fighting for the other side, you idiot?! I was fighting for all of you! I did my best to protect you all! My students, you!”

“Yeah?! Did you? Because I remember your trial! You were protecting Potter that whole time!”

“Just because I was protecting Potter doesn’t mean I wasn’t protecting you as well. And if it wasn’t for me and Potter, you would be in Azkaban right now! Besides, do you really think that living under the Dark Lord would be such a fucking pleasure? Where has your mind gone in the past two years, you little idiot? We would have nothing! We would be like house elves, kissing his feet and groveling for his pleasure, being tortured and killed at his order!”

“But at least we would have won! Against those fucking Gryffindors! We LOST and you won. I don’t want to fucking to talk to you anymore! Go, see you fucking Potter!”

And he apparated.

Severus stood there, gaping, staring at the spot Draco had just vacated. The only thing on his mind was the boy’s face, twisted in rage and hatred.

***

When Severus returned from Diagon Alley to his home, writing was the last thing on his mind.

His godson, Draco, the boy Severus helped raise, was doing hardcore drugs. That was not something he would have ever expected. Wallowing in self-pity, refusing to do anything with his life, sure. But drugs? He had thought Draco would be smarter than that. He would bet on it! Draco had never been the type. He worked hard, he did his best in school, always frustrated to be beaten by Granger.

Severus had thought that the boy would have a bright future. He had done everything he could to ensure that. He had even lowered himself to asking Hazel Potter for help, to testify for Draco and other young Slytherins. To make sure they wouldn’t be sent to Azkaban. 

And it worked. For so many of them. Sure, the world was hostile towards them, but many of Draco’s year mates were caught adrift after the war. Severus tried to help them as much as possible. His recommendation had enabled Blaise Zabini to be accepted into the Italian Institute of Magic to study Charms. Theodore Nott was doing his best, taking over his family’s business. It was tougher for his to survive, but the Notts had plenty of resources, so he was managing. 

Severus was still checking on all his students that had it the hardest, giving them his P.O. box to sent the messages to. Where he could, he talked to his peers at universities, provided recommendations, helped them at least get started in the hostile world. Especially, the ones that had to go out to the world just after the war ended.

Severus understood that the lives they had all taken for granted weren’t theirs. Before the war, a lot of his Slytherins could pretty much do anything, be anyone. Their families’ power, money and influence greasing the way for their children. It was no longer the case, but it was still possible to do. Hell, Timothy Fawley was a third year law student at the MUL!

And Severus had fucking tried to reach Draco after the war. He visited him when he was held by the Ministry. He tried to talk to the boy, only to be met with hatred, rage and derision. He sent letters. He tried arranging meetings. Draco had never responded to anything. Not one time had the boy reached out to him.

He even tried going through Narcissa once. That didn’t end up well, according to the witch. Apparently, Draco had shut his mother out as well.

And to accuse Severus of not protecting Draco was absurd. Severus had killed his mentor… his father… so that Draco would not have to… so that Draco wouldn’t become a killer. He had sacrificed everything to protect that little, ungrateful shit. He had done something that would hunt him for the rest of his life.

Severus had tried, and tried. And he kept trying even now, two years later. He was still sending letters, making sure the idiot wouldn’t get caught breaking his parole. Two years later the only thing he had gained from the entire experience was the staggering amount of frustration, bordering on rage.

There was a lot of helplessness in Severus’ life. Years and years of it, when he had been waiting on the Dark Lord to reemerge, when he had been doing his best to protect Hazel Potter, when he had been trying to prevent the Carrows from outright murdering Hogwarts’ students, when he had read the Fallen Fifty list after waking up from a coma.

One would think he was used to the feeling of loss and of despair, but he wasn’t. He hated it with passion, this feeling of being boxed in a small, dark room by others, with no exits in sight.

Plato had returned with the letter from Hazel, but Severus didn’t even open it. This was not the time for his silly infatuation with the girl. He needed to get some sense into his godson and fast.

***

The Malfoy Manor was exactly as Severus remembered. Ostentatious, pretentious, overly large.

Coming back to the place wasn’t exactly his plan, but he needed to speak to Narcissa about Draco’s behavior. It simply couldn’t go on. The boy was spiraling downward fast. Dragon’s Powder addiction was very difficult to overcome.

He took in the sight of the building. There were many memories that tied him to the place. He had often visited before the Second War and during the First. Lucius invited him first for his infamous parties, later to dine with his family or play a game of chess. They were one of the happy ones, even if he had been a spy back then. In the more peaceful times, they had rarely talked about the Dark Lord and their time as Death Eaters. They were simply friends.

He walked through the gate and the magic of the wards washed over him. He wasn’t stopped, which did not surprise him too much. Now, that Narcissa held the wards, she was unlikely to remove his access. The woman knew he meant no harm to her and her child. After all, he was one of primary reasons Draco was not in Azkaban with his father.

He knocked politely and waited. The door opened not a minute later. Severus was taken aback when Narcissa stood in front of him. He was expecting a house elf, not the Lady of the Manor herself.

“Severus, so good to see you,” she said warmly. “Please, come in.”

“Cissy, good to see you looking so well.”

They had corresponded after the war and met on multiple occasions during balls and charity events. Severus had attended all of Narcissa’s parties, of course. He hoped to help her rebuild Malfoy family name. Hazel had attended them as well, apparently building a tentative friendship with the older witch that had saved her life in exchange for Draco’s.

“I am glad to see you, old friend,” Cissy said. “The wards informed me of your arrival. I was quite astonished that you have come here.”

Severus was as well. He could have owled Cissy, but he decided that the conversation warranted face-to-face communication. His house was hardly suitable for the proud, elegant witch. And Severus wasn’t sure he wanted her to know he still lived at Spinner’s End. She was trustworthy to an extent, but Narcissa Malfoy would always put her family first.

Finally, they arrived in a green room, also known as the Green Suite, where personal friends of the family were received as guests. It was completely redecorated from what he remembered. Even the color of the walls was changed to a much lighter green. The furniture was in a traditional style, more fit for a museum than an actual house, but that’s what you got, when you dealt with the Malfoys.

From what he observed, the entire manor was in fact redecorated, from the floors, to the furniture. He was quite grateful for that. Severus wasn’t easily scared, but the possibility that the manor’s decor would trigger unpleasant memories and send him into a panic attack was very real. After all, this was the Headquarters of the Dark Lord during the last war. A place where he had witnessed and contributed to many losing their lives.

“Thank you, Narcissa, for welcoming me into your home,” he said in a traditional greeting. “What is mine, I so gift,” he handed her a small token - a wine bottle. “May you and yours be blessed.”

“Thank you, Severus, for blessing us with your presence,” she answered. “What is ours, we will share. May you and yours be blessed.”

It wasn’t how he usually interacted with Malfoys. He was a family friend. That excused him from bringing gifts and formal protocol. However, he had not visited the manor since the war, and wanted to make this token of appreciation towards Cissy.

The house elf brought tea and Severus’ favorite biscuits, and then left them both alone.

“Now, that the formalities were observed, Severus, why are you here? I was rather positive that you would not want to ever come back to our home… Not after the war…”

“You are right,” he admitted, sipping his tea. “You have done a wonderful job redecorating,” he complimented her.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t be able to really live here, had I not done so. Everything was spoiled by the presence of the damned Halfblood psycho.”

“Indeed. I am here to talk about Draco,” Severus stated plainly. No point beating around the bush.

Narcissa grimaced.

“I understand he is not doing very well with the post-war reality,” he continued.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Narcissa scowled a bit. “He’s not doing anything. He didn’t pass the NEWTs, he refuses to get familiar with the business, he sits around in his room, drinks and parties with the biggest wastes of space among Purebloods.”

“I have caught him violating his parole,” Severus said.

Narcissa sighed.

“I can’t make him do anything anymore,” she admitted. “I ordered, I threatened, I pleaded. I sent him to a Mind Healer. He never went. I hired a tutor, he didn’t show up to the lessons. He’s wasting every opportunity he has,” she said angrily. “I offered to send him to France, to the US, to anywhere really, where he could have a better chance for a degree, get a job or marry, or whatever. All my efforts ended in nothing. He doesn’t even speak to me anymore.”

Severus nodded.

“I had similar experience. He doesn’t respond to letters, he refuses to talk to me and when I caught him breaking parole, he basically called me a traitor and told me to stay out of his business.”

“I know that the world didn’t turn out the way he was expecting. A lot of it is Lucius’ fault. And the Dark Lord’s of course. We lost a lot of power and influence, but we still have money. Not like the other Slytherins. People will still accept us, especially after Hazel’s testimony.”

Severus nodded.

“You have built a relationship with her, haven’t you?”

“It’s tentative, but yes. Hazel knows that I need her to rebuild even fraction of our power, but she doesn’t seem to mind being used in such way. She’s been… very gracious. Without her, my charity would never take off the ground. And without you, of course.”

Always a Slytherin. So much smarter than both him and Lucius. If the Dark Lord didn’t dismiss women, he might have still been in power.

“I am glad,” Severus stated.

“We are cousins,” Narcissa said. “And she’s been interested in the history of the Black family. I know she lived with Andy, but she was willing to build a relationship with me as well. I quite like her,” she admitted.

Severus found himself becoming fonder of the girl too.

“Do I want to know what Draco has been doing,” Narcissa asked after a pensive moment.

“Probably not. But I am afraid you must,” he said cautiously. “Dragon’s Powder.”

“What?!” she shrieked at him.

“I caught him making a purchase in The Red Rose. Afterward, he went to a back alley and smeared it all over his gums.” 

Narcissa sagged. She looked sad, unnerved by this new revelation. Severus had never seen her lose the composure so badly.

“What am I to do with him?” she asked him desperately.

“I don’t know,” Severus admitted. “He’s angry at me. Said I betrayed him for Hazel. Screamed it in my face in fact. Twice now. I cannot get through to him anymore than you can. If he continues the way he had been, somebody will eventually catch him breaking his parole, and they will ship him off to Azkaban.”

“I know,” Narcissa said with profound helplessness in her voice.

“I hate to recommend it, but perhaps a rehab is a right way to go,” Severus offered.

Narcissa laughed dryly.

“A Malfoy in a rehab. That would be the first,” a single tear escaped down her cheek.

“I am so sorry, Cissy. Perhaps, if I had been here more often…” Severus started.

“No, Severus. You have nothing to feel guilty about. What you have done for our family… we can never repay you. And I’ve seen every single letter you sent Draco over the past two years. And I know it hasn’t been easy for you either. You cannot keep sacrificing yourself for everyone. You are almost worse than Hazel in that regard,” the woman said firmly. 

“We spoiled him,” she said after a moment. “Lucius and I. And now we are reaping what we have sawed ourselves. I should have noticed this earlier.”

“Cissy, you’ve done your best,” Severus protested.

“No, we haven’t. We taught him that anything can be his just because he’s a Malfoy.”

“That’s not true. Draco worked hard in school. He was a very good student. One of the best in his year.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t prepared for a world that wouldn’t bow to him. He thought it was his birthright. And it’s not. Draco needs to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around him.”

Severus nodded. That was probably true. Draco was a little Slytherin prince, but the adult world didn’t work quite like that.

“He still has it easier than many of his peers,” Narcissa said. “I have heard that the poorer Slytherins are struggling. To find jobs, to be accepted to universities all over the world, even if they had little to no association to the Dark Lord.”

“I know,” Severus admitted.

“But if they work hard enough, they are still managing. Especially, the more… infamous families. Ottavia Zabini was just telling me that her son was accepted to Italian Magic Institute. He lost two years, but in our long lives, it is not that much. She mentioned you provided a recommendation for him.”

Severus nodded.

“Perhaps, we should try talking to him together,” he offered.

“Perhaps.”

“Narcissa, I have a book to write, but I can postpone and…”

“No, Severus,” she interrupted him. “He’s my son and I am going to take care of this. It’s way past the time I should stop outsourcing my parenting to you,” Severus jerked back as if he was slapped. Narcissa noticed, of course. “No, Sev,” she grabbed his hand. “I am not rejecting your help. I actually am asking for it. Without Lucius here… You understand. But you cannot put your life on hold once more to save Draco. Or anyone else. I want you to help with Draco, but you cannot keep living for other people.”

Severus stared at her, unable to speak, as she let go of his hand.

“What? Did you think I don’t know you, Severus? Even with all you have been hiding, I have known you since you were eleven. You haven’t done much with your life in the last two years, have you? Or twenty two really. Not much different than Draco in that regard. Sure, you wrote revolutionary books and got an Order of Merlin. You channeled your guilt into providing recommendations and support for your former students. However, you also locked yourself up in solitude.”

Well, that was roughly accurate.

“That’s… ”

“Correct?” Narcissa finished. “You have lived for others for the last twenty odd years. You cannot keep doing that. You have to start living for yourself, Sev. To get over the guilt that’s been eating you. I still want you to help me with Draco, but not to dedicate every second of your life to this.”

Severus nodded slowly.

“I understand.”

“You have been a dear friend to Lucius and I. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for all you have done for this family,” Severus could feel himself blushing furiously. “You saved Draco, even if I forced you into it. You helped Lucius and I during our trials and convinced Hazel to help us all.”

“Actually, Hazel was going to do that anyway, Cissy. She’s… weird like that.”

Narcissa smiled lightly.

“Gryffindors, right?”

“I don’t think that’s a particularly Gryffindor trait. Most of them still hate me. At least the younger ones.”

“Well, perhaps it’s Hazel Potter thing,” Narcissa allowed.

Severus finished his tea.

“What are we going to do about Draco?”

Narcissa sighed.

“What I should have done two years ago. Take away the money. And then we can talk to him.”

Severus nodded.

“If you could wait for a bit. I found that I have to make an urgent trip to Gringotts. Would you mind waiting for an hour?”

Severus shook his head.

“I cleared my busy schedule just for this,” he muttered.

Narcissa nodded and left. Severus took a cookie from the tray and stared at it. It seemed that he was rather transparent to his friends. Or to Potter.

“Does Master Prince wishes for anything?” a house elf appeared out of nowhere.

“Peace and quiet,” Severus snarled.

“Yes, Sir!”

Severus had missed Narcissa Malfoy for the last two years. He assumed the woman stopped trusting him, despite him testifying for them. Their interactions were a bit stifled, justifiably so, of course, but Cissy was always the smartest of them all. The one that did not wish to take the Dark Mark and avoided it with a grace that made the Dark Lord compliment her on her forethought.

She hadn’t managed to avoid the war, but that was due to Lucius and Severus was rather certain that Cissy had not loved him since the beginning of their marriage. He was actually convinced she hadn’t even liked him back then. That had come later. And with that her involvement in trying to save her family during the second war.

“It’s taken care of,” Cissy came back to the room.

“That was fast,” Severus looked up at the intricately carved grandfather clock. Barely thirty minutes had passed since she had left to Gringotts.

“Being a Malfoy might make me persona non grata in the Ministry, but the goblins are much more pragmatic,” she smiled dryly. “Thank you, Severus, for being here.”

Severus swallowed. Maybe it wasn’t the trust, but rather Narcissa didn’t feel he wanted anything to do with them after the war.

“Cissy, I know… I haven’t been exactly… available. I have never expected to survive the war,” he admitted. “I did not plan for that eventuality. And if I thought about it, I expected to be locked away with Lucius. However, I have intended to abandon you. You have been my friends for many years, despite my loyalties. I want you to know that.”

“I don’t expect the last two years were very easy for you, either, Severus,” she answered.

“But they have been infinitely harder for you.”

She laughed.

“For Slytherin’s sake, Severus. Where the hell did you get these self-sacrificing tendencies?”

He looked at her, surprised.

“I don’t blame you for taking the time, you idiot. I could not… do not expect any more from you than what you have already given us,” she said. “I am glad that you are here, but find some of your Slytherin selfishness, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Right,” Severus muttered.

“You have done more for Slytherins in one year, than Shughorn had in twenty. Stop with the guilt,” she pretty much ordered him.

“Yes, Cissy.”

“Come, let us deal with my wayward son.”

They walked in silence through the empty corridors of Malfoy Manor to Draco’s heir suit door. Narcissa knocked lightly.

“Draco?”

“Go away, mother. I am not in the mood.”

“Draco, open the door! Right now!” Narcissa ordered sharply.

“Fine,” they heard the footsteps on the floor and the door swung opened. “What is he doing here?!” Draco snarled as he saw Severus. He was only wearing his boxers and looked as if he hadn’t showered since Severus had seen him in London.

“He’s come here to alert me of your… addiction to Dragon’s Powder,” Narcissa informed Draco. “He’s here to help.”

“I don’t need any help from a traitor!” Draco snarled walking away towards his bed, jumping onto it.

The room was a complete mess, clothes sprawled on the floor, along with books and parchments.

“Draco, what is happening with you? Drugs, son? Why?”

“It’s not your business, mother! I am an adult.”

“Well, you are not acting like one right now, Draco,” Severus said.

“Precisely, child. What’s going on Draco?”

Narcissa sat down next to her son.

“Nothing is fucking going on,” Draco answered. “I am perfectly fine,” he glared furiously at Severus.

“So, you are not using Dragon’s Powder, are you?” Severus asked.

“It’s none of your business, you asshole.”

“Draco, behave,” Narcissa scolded her son, but Severus didn’t react. He had heard it all from Draco for the past two year. “Severus is trying to help you! You could be a bit more grateful to him!”

“Grateful?! He betrayed us!”

“He did not betray us! He betrayed the Dark Lord and good that he did for Slytherin’s sake! Otherwise, we would all likely be dead!”

“Yeah, right. Father is in prison! And the Golden fucking Trio is prancing around like they own the fucking world! That’s his fucking fault!”

“Oh, Draco,” Narcissa sighed. “Lucius made his own bed. And thanks to Severus, he only got five years.”

“We want to help you, Draco, but for that you need to help yourself too,” Severus said gently.

“Fuck you! Go back to your bloody Potter!”

“Hazel Potter has nothing to do with this, Draco. My relationship with her or lack thereof is irrelevant to my relationship with you. Or your addiction to Dragon’s Powder.”

“Draco, I let it go on too long,” Narcissa said firmly. “I am afraid that there will be rules from now on. Where is your supply of the Powder?” Draco refused to look up, but Cissy wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing. She walked towards the cupboard Draco turned away from and opened it. The pouch that Severus had seen the day before was laying innocently on display.

“That’s it,” Severus informed Cissy. She picked up the pouch and opened it. Bluish powder was clearly visible inside. 

“No!” Draco shouted and rushed his mother, but Severus was faster, grabbing the boy and holding him, as Narcissa walked into the adjacent bathroom and threw all the powder into the toilet. “Let me go!” Draco struggled against Severus’ grip on him.

“It’s for your own good, Draco.”

“Fuck you, you blasted Gryffindor lover!” Severus barely raised his eyebrows. He heard way, way worse.

“Draco, I am afraid that this,” Narcissa waved her hand indicating his room and the boy himself, “cannot go on. I have already spoken to Gringotts. Your access to the vaults has been removed.”

“You can’t do that!” Draco screamed, and Severus had to hold him tighter to keep him in place.

“I can. In fact I already have. You are not talking to us, which is fine. You do not have to. Unfortunately, we cannot let you spiral any more than you already have. I understand it’s difficult, but it will end. One way or another you have to talk to someone. Which brings me to your choice. Either you will be placed in a rehab, or you will continue living here, but go to a Mind Healer. Regularly.”

“Neither,” snarled Draco.

“If you have another solution to your problem, I will gladly listen. However, for now this is the only choice you have,” Narcissa wouldn’t be negotiated with. “From now on, the elves will make sure that you do not jeopardize your parole. Binky!”

“Mistress called,” an elf appeared with a crack.

“Draco has been ignoring the terms of his parole. I would like you to make sure he doesn’t do so anymore. You have my permission to stun him whenever he tries. You and all the other elves. And he’s not to leave the grounds.”

The elf’s eyes went wide.

“As Mistress wishes!”

“You can’t do that!” Draco snarled enraged.

“You have said that already. You will find that I am currently the regent of the house. And if I wasn’t, I would still be able to all of it, Draco. You are not well. I hope you can see one day that we are doing to it out of love and concern for you.”

Narcissa looked at her soon sadly.

“We cannot help you, Draco, unless you want to help yourself.”

Draco stopped struggling and crashed back down onto the bed.

“Go away. I have nothing more to say to you two.”

***

They didn’t return back to the Green Suite. Instead, Cissy brought Severus into a family wing’s living room.

“That went…”

“Better than it could have?” Severus offered.

“Barely. It’s not often you are faced with your own mistakes in such… visceral way.”

“I wouldn’t say so. I have been staring my worst mistakes in the face for six years,” Severus chuckled dryly.

Narcissa didn’t respond, but Severus could tell she was struggling with keeping her composure. She was fast losing this fight.

“Cissy,” Severus said cautiously. “We will make it through.”

“Will we?” she asked and her voice broke.

“We will. Lucius will be back home in just three years and Draco will get better. Perhaps not today or tomorrow, but with our help, he will recover. We made it through the war, it would require a lot of mistakes of us not to manage now,” he tried to reassure her.

“It’s all Lucius’ fault,” she said angrily.

“You know that’s not true,” Severus knelt next to her. “His father forced him into joining the Dark Lord. You know that.”

“And he didn’t want to join in a slightest,” heavy sarcasm dripped from Narcissa’s voice.

“He did. He wanted to please Abraxas. And sure, he wasn’t fond of Muggles or Muggleborns, but none of us could predict what He would become. I certainly haven’t. I joined just as Lucius did. We were all dazzled by his power and charm.”

“Please, there is a reason I haven’t joined,” Narcissa huffed. “The man sounded like a rising Dark Lord even back than. And how many of those are actually successful? Or sane? Or benevolent?”

“You were always smarter than I or Lucius or the rest of us,” Severus said. “We were angry, stupid kids. We made really, really ignorant choices with far-reaching consequences. And now, we are all paying for it. All of us.”

Narcissa nodded.

“You are smarter than I remember.”

“I am a slow learner, but even I _have_ learned from my mistakes.”

“I wish I could talk to Lucius,” Narcissa said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Ministry will allow it. I have been there only three months ago and they haven’t been… accommodating.”

“I will speak to Kingsley.”

“Thank you, Severus. I am… grateful.”

“Don’t mention it, Cissy. I am sure I can figure out a way for you to pay me back.”

Narcissa looked at him and chuckled sadly.

“Finally, that Slytherin mentality is back.”

At least it broke the woman out of focusing on the desperate wish to help her son. Severus had felt the same sort of helplessness that came with it way too often in his life not to recognize it.

“I try,” he smirked at her. “But in all seriousness, I have a Mind Healer that can make a good recommendation for a specialist in addiction. Jeremy Hill.”

“The Head Mind Healer in Saint Mungo?” Cissy narrowed her eyes.

“Precisely. I will inquire on your behalf. This way it will not get back to Draco. After all, it is a parole violation. I would rather not pay the price Kingsley would set on being lenient with Draco.”

“Our dear Minister. Astonishing that they put a Slytherin in charge.”

“A prominent member of the Order, a hero. I am fairly sure they forget he was a Slytherin half the time and he’s not rushing to remind them.”

“Good strategy.”

“Indeed. He would likely push me into accepting some sort of adviser position in exchange for not sending Draco to Azkaban. And no offense, I don’t want to work for the Ministry.”

“I understand, old friend. I am not sure what I would do without you.”

“I am sure you would manage, Cissy. But perhaps I can ease your path.”

“There is one other issue I wanted to discuss with you, though.”

“The Crawleys,” Severus stated. It was an easy guess.

“The Crawleys,” Narcissa confirmed regardless. “I assume you cannot tell me everything, but I know you are better informed than The Prophet.”

“Indeed,” he agreed easily. “I will tell you the same thing I told Hazel Potter. I have my own suspicions about the murders. And my suspicions are that they were killed in revenge for their crimes during the Dark Lord’s thankfully short reign.”

Narcissa nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Indeed. It’s not a big leap. Hundreds of Death Eaters escaped detection after the war. It was pretty much impossible to identify them easily and since the Ministry was in shambles…”

“They couldn’t do much to arrest them. Lack of resources, trustworthy personnel, a mass of Snatchers, former Death Eaters and rebels mixing up didn’t make it easy.”

“No. You should make sure that your wards are secure as possible. Unfortunate truth is that many people didn’t like that Hazel had protected the younger Death Eaters and people aren’t quick to forget or forgive.”

“Thank you, Severus, for being so candid with me.”

***

Severus returned home late in the evening. He needed to write Hazel back, not to mention other people he needed to contact.

He opened up the letter from Potter. It was written marginally better than the last one.

_ Severus, _

_ Thank you for that thorough critique of my writing. I shall attempt to improve it just so that you can read my letters without a problem. _

_ I, on the other hand, have no issue deciphering your comments. After all, I spent years reading vicious, biting remarks on the very same essays you’ve mentioned. _

_ You do not need to feed me. I have overtaken the kitchen from Tinny and Kreacher (they were not pleased), in order to pass the time until I can return to work. Apparently, my boss warned the free clinic supervisor not to let me take any shifts (I have no idea how she managed that), so I find myself with way too much time on my hands. _

_ Hazel _

Severus picked up a couple sheets of parchment and sat down to write. As much as he wanted to complain some more about Hazel’s lack of care when writing, getting Draco sorted out was the priority for him. He needed to contact Kingsley. It was probably best to come out straight with it. Kingsley did owe him some still. At least in Severus’ book.

_ Kingsley, _

_ I have a favor to request. _

_ When would be convenient time to make a brief visit to your office? _

_ S _

Next came Jeremy.

_ Jeremy, _

_ I require a recommendation for a Mind Healer, who specializes in addiction (it is not for me, you need not worry, I have not gotten back into the habit of knocking myself out with potions). It is for one of my former students, a male, 19 years old. As you can imagine, he was been involved quite heavily in the last war. Since then he had spiraled out of control. _

_ The primary problem right now is that he has become addicted to Dragon’s Powder, which you can imagine is a matter of serious concern for his mother and I.  _

_ Additionally, he is currently on parole, which presents an additional complexity to the case. I wish to protect that young man not only from his addiction, but also from continuously violating his parole terms. I would rather he did not waste his life in Azkaban if possible. _

_ If it becomes necessary to involve the Ministry, I shall plead his case to Kingsley myself. _

_ Would you mind recommending someone? _

_ Best regards, _

_ SP _

Well, that was that. There was little else Severus could do until Draco wised up a bit. They couldn’t force him to accept help, simply because it would not work. He would cheat and lie and avoid accepting help, until he realized he needed it. Severus knew that path. You had to hit the bottom, before picking yourself up and climbing back to reality.

For him, it was the Dark Lord going after Lily and him begging his Master for her life. It was the absolute lowest point in his life. Afterward, he managed to get back up. Slowly, painfully.

He had a feeling that it was still quite a bit off for Draco. This lowest point.

Severus once more picked up the letter from Hazel. His godson had accused him of being _Gryffindor lover_. Literally, he was. Probably not what Draco meant.

At that point he was in doubt that he should continue anything with Hazel Potter-Black. For a split second, he wanted to discard his own life and needs and wants once more if it would only help Draco.

However, Narcissa’s words echoed in his mind. _You cannot keep living for others_. Draco was behaving like a child, who had his favorite toy taken away. Severus had been paying for his mistakes for twenty years. Cissy was always smarter than the lot of them. He had to at least try to move on, or he would always struggle with surviving. Jeremy tried to get him to admit it. Severus couldn't even admit it to himself, but maybe he could try. Just a tiny little bit.

He would still help Draco. He would do his best to save him from his addiction, to get him back on track, but he would also try to live, try to do more than just survive. And if that meant seeing Potter again, than it would be so.

_ Potter, _

_ I will be there. _

_ SP _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Apparently, a sound falcons make according to this site: https://www.birdsoutsidemywindow.org/peregrine-faqs/peregrine-vocalizations-and-what-they-mean/


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> sorry for the delay. I have been a bit busy playing Total War: Rome 2 and passing some DevOps exams (and some of the scenes were just not coming together, and I am really bad at writing sex scenes, takes me forever). There might be a few more mistakes in there as well, since I hadn't had so much time to edit and revise it. I will try to do it more for the next chapters.
> 
> [I still will have to pass some more exams in the next 4 weeks, so I might be delayed a bit with the next chapter as well. We'll see.]
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Best,  
> L.

“Hermione! Neville, wait up!” Hazel shouted seeing her friends walking in the park surrounding the MUL on Monday afternoon. She had to pick up Teddy soon, but first she really wanted to see what her results for the term were. She put a lot of time into her studies that term and her marks were thankfully the best she ever managed.

“Hey, Hazel!” Neville smiled at her.

“Hi!” she managed to catch up to them. “What are you two up to here? Checking the results of the exams?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Hermione confirmed.

“And?”

“I am the first in my year,” Hermione said proudly.

“Good for you! And you, Nev?”

“I’ve done quite well,” the young man blushed a bit.

“He’s lying. He is the first in his class too!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Congrats!” Hazel slapped him on the back. “Now, being only the third in my year, I feel pretty stupid,” she laughed.

“That’s awesome, Hazel!” Hermione said beaming with pride, while Neville high-fived her.

“Thanks, Mione. Are you going for lunch? I was thinking of having a bit of celebration,” Hazel explained.

“Why not?” Neville smiled. “I can never quite eat before seeing the results.”

“Forward then, let’s get a pizza!”

They got quickly to one of a small restaurant that catered mostly to Muggleborn students on the MUL’s campus and sat down in a corner after ordering their pizzas. It was fairly empty, as it was still quite early for lunch.

Hermione cast a privacy spell over them. Something they were all used to doing, if only to prevent the gossip making its way to the front pages of _The Daily Prophet_.

“So, how are you lot? Already planning exciting things this summer?” Hazel asked. “I know you, Neville, are going to Africa. Thrilled yet?”

“Oh, definitely,” Neville said. “We are going to the Ituri Rainforest* to study the plants there and hopefully I will be able to bring some specimens to the MUL’s green houses. If I am lucky, I might get some for my own! I cannot wait to see it!”

“That’s great,” Hazel smiled, seeing the obvious excitement and anticipation on his face.

“Yes, a whole month! Just to explore and assist Professor Lloyd. She specializes in rainforest’s flora and she is a world renowned expert on it. She had already discovered some magical species and also was the first to manage to grow them in the green houses outside of their natural habitats. She even helped me out with some of my plants a couple times.”

“I am glad you are getting that opportunity, Neville,” Hazel said sincerely. “To do something you enjoy and succeed in it.”

Neville blushed furiously.

“Thanks, Hazel. And you Hermione?”

“I am finishing my internship at the Ministry at the end of July and then, I want to do some research into Muggleborns and Purebloods.”

“What kind of research?” Neville asked.

“Timothy claims that the more magical blood you have, if we remove inbreeding, the more likely you are to be powerful.”

“That’s true,” Neville shrugged. “At least everybody knows this.”

“Everybody?” Hermione asked. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, you are a Muggleborn, so I guess your parents couldn’t have told you that. We grow up with that knowledge. Of course, some families take it way too far,” Neville explained.

“Why don’t they teach it at Hogwarts?” Hazel asked.

“It’s common knowledge, I guess,” Neville shrugged again. “No wizards would think it strange or be unfamiliar with it, so they probably figured it’s not necessary. Besides, you have to be powerful to get to Hogwarts. Especially as a non legacy student.”

“That’s what Timothy basically said - that it doesn’t matter for me or other Hogwarts’ students - they are specifically there, because they are much more powerful than an average Muggleborn,” Hermione agreed.

“Interesting,” Hazel mumbled.

“Well, Timothy mentioned it’s about genetics mostly - like inheriting your parents’ eye or hair color or intelligence level. And that’s why Vol-voldemort had caused so much fear. He was more powerful than an average Pureblood or Halfblood, which made him absolutely off the charts for an average Muggleborn.”

“Pretty much,” Neville confirmed. “Of course, he had taken the regular Pureblood rhetoric to the extreme. Not that it changed overly much. And it’s unlikely too. I mean power in the Wizarding World means more ability to earn decent wages, and therefore have more influence in general. Even now, with the Slytherin being… shunned.”

“Kingsley is Slytherin. I don’t think being the Minister is being shunned,” argued Hermione.

“Special case. The world is much more hostile to Slytherins than it has ever been. All of them, not only the juvenile Death Eaters that were spared from going to Azkaban,” Neville explained.

“I think you are exaggerating,” Hermione huffed. “They still have all the money and seats in the Wizengamot.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Neville. “But look at our MUL class. How many students in business or law are from Slytherin? If you look through previous years, you will see that they typically take up a disproportionate percentage of each graduating class. About forty on average. Now, there are only a few examples.”

Hazel frowned.

“Really?”

Neville shrugged.

“Old families, old money. Their families usually push them into those directions.”

“Why haven’t they applied?” Hermione asked.

Neville paused as their food was brought and waited until the waitress exited their privacy bubble. They started on their food, continuing the conversation.

“Mostly, cause it’s difficult to get in, if you are on parole, I guess. And I doubt the university wants to actually associate itself with former Death Eaters of the supporters of the fallen Dark Lord.”

“How do you know all this?” Hermione asked.

“I grew up with this, Hermione. It’s the only magical university in the UK. Of course, I know this.”

“How come I never noticed?”

“It’s impolite to mention any of this in a conversation would be my guess,” Hazel said. “A couple of weeks ago I was buying a dress for the Saint Mungo’s Charity Ball and the girl warned me in not so many words that _green was a Slytherin color_. Funnily enough, I was with Andromeda then.”

“Precisely,” Neville agreed. “There are a whole bunch of things that are _just not talked about_. And nobody would breach that topic with you, Hermione. No offense, but there is this perception that _Muggleborns just don’t understand_. Or Hazel, but of course, people generally assume that you hated the Death Eaters, but once you have gotten your revenge you didn’t care about others getting theirs.”

“I don’t,” Hazel responded annoyed. “Well, some Death Eaters like Bellatrix, but she’s already dead. And I didn’t fight them for revenge!”

“I know, I know,” Neville raised his arms. “But people still cannot quite get over the fact that you testified _for the Malfoys_. Or asked for leniency for the Death Eaters under the age of twenty. It was seen in some circles as a betrayal. Or at the very least unwarranted mercy. Remember, a lot of people think that they got what they deserved. It wasn’t just the Muggleborns that got killed off. So, yes, the world is quite hostile towards the Slytherins or the traditional families. But it is not overt, not explicit.”

Hermione frowned.

“But Timothy…”

“Is another exception,” Neville interrupted her. “The family is not as traditional as others, and is mostly known for their researchers. Besides, no Fawley was ever accused of following the Dark Lord and they don’t really work for the Ministry. They have their own law and business practices, but they stayed remarkably clear of any stain. Few others can say so. There is always a family member or in-law who was suspected or convicted or was seen as an unmarked supporter. And generally, the studies at the MUL are only three years long.”

“Most of Slytherin are not here anymore,” Hazel guessed.

“Exactly,” Neville sighed. “Look, there is just a lot of implicit rules in our society. And I think neither of you actually catches the nuances of it. Not your fault,” he added quickly, seeing Hermione gearing up for the argument. “Nobody taught them to you. Like last week I had to explain to Hazel the marriage customs. Every person raised in an at least partially wizarding family will know what it means if my grandmother and Hannah’s father have public lunches or dinners, but you just assume it’s a work thing or a social thing.”

Hazel nodded.

“We don’t. We see it for what it really is - a prelude for marriage. And Hogwarts and the MUL don’t help the matters. They are much less strict with the rules, being educational institutions that have quite a few Muggleborns.”

“So what should we look for?” Hermione’s frown deepened even more.

“It’s in a way people will skip traditional greetings, or a shop keeper talks to a customer. That’s why you have difficulty noticing it - because you don’t know the traditional greetings, therefore if someone doesn’t say them, you don’t take it as an insult,” Neville groaned frustrated. “It’s about who talks to whom, who approaches whom, who initiates the conversation… There are dozens and dozens or rules… the higher your standing, the more the constraints. It’s all bloody complicated.”

“So, should I greet you in some sort of specific way?” Hazel asked.

“Me? No, we are friends,” Neville shook his head. “However, if we hadn’t, and I was more of a proper pureblood heir, you should approach me, but I would always greet you first. With your proper title and such. Your station as the future Countess makes it more complex, since you are your father’s only heir and he is dead, but had he been alive, you shouldn’t actually initiate a conversation with me. Or be with me in private. Or eat with me in public alone. Or a couple dozen other rules that we would be violating.”

“You must be kidding me,” Hermione growled.

“Not really. But if I wanted to insult you, I would skip the greeting which by the way is _Well met_. Or skip your title. Or extend my hand to shake yours. Which all happens right now to the Slytherins, besides them having troubles with people boycotting their businesses or getting into the universities. And not just in England. From what I hear, it’s pretty much world wide. The rise and fall of Voldemort was quite well publicized all over the world. And especially on the continent.”

“Why does nobody tell us these things?” asked Hazel. “It’s been eight years, almost nine since I have been in the Wizarding World.”

“Gryffindor has the most Muggleborns out of all houses, followed by Hufflepuff. People make allowances. Same at the MUL. While others simply assume that Muggleborns don’t want to learn.”

“Learn all this where? If we aren’t being even shown that we are missing the context,” Hermione huffed annoyed.

Neville shrugged.

“Would you actually follow these rules?”

“Of course not! They sound barbaric. Like from the eighteenth century,” Hermione answered and Neville looked at her pointedly.

Hazel chuckled, and Hermione blushed.

“My point exactly,” Neville sighed.

“So you are actually saying that the Slytherins do have it rough,” Hazel said.

“Certainly not the smooth ride they are all used to, yes,” Neville confirmed. “The word is that Duke Prince is helping them out, mostly by putting a good word in for his former students, but the newer Slytherins don’t have it easy either.”

“I thought that I stated it clearly that we shouldn’t blame the kids for their parents’ sins,” Hazel said mildly irritated.

“People have long memories and even longer lives in the Wizarding World. Some of our best, most admired authorities were murdered by the Death Eaters or Voldemort. Like Amelia Bones. Or Emmeline Vance. And some people are actually angry that those kids avoided Azkaban.”

“Nobody ever said anything like that to me,” Hazel muttered.

“Hazel! You are the bloody hero of the Wizarding World. They don’t blame you. They blame the Ministry. They say you are forgiving and good and what not. Most of them at least. But that the Ministry shouldn’t be. Besides, you don’t exactly have a wide social life. Otherwise, somebody might have brought it up.”

“So what are they thinking of Hazel helping out with Narcissa Malfoy’s charity?” Hermione asked.

“Family ties. More important than anything else. Besides, she did save Hazel’s life. So, there is a fair amount of people believing in the Black family’s loyalty trumping over anything else.”

“Lovely,” Hazel muttered disheartened.

“But I work at the Ministry. Or at least apprentice there,” Hermione said.

“As I said, people will make allowances, especially for us,” Neville shrugged. “Just observe next time. Everything turned to the worse recently, after the Crawleys’ case hit the papers, so it’s more noticeable than before.”

“Well, we both know Hermione’s not the best when it comes to nuances,” Hazel chuckled dryly.

“Hazel!” the woman huffed offended.

“You know I am right.”

“Because you are that much better,” Hermione pointed out. “Not only not noticing nuances, but also anti-social.”

“I am not disputing that, but I was a tad messed up after the war. What else can you expect?”

“A tad?” Hermione threw her a unbelieving look.

“Maybe a bit more than that,” Hazel agreed.

“The problem is that it, of course, breeds resentment,” Neville said. “On both sides. People don’t want to associate with Slytherins, and Slytherins feel justified in their anger, especially if they had never had any connection with Voldemort.”

“Sweet, perfect breeding ground for more conflict. As if Kingsley hadn’t spent an entire year after the war trying to prevent just that.”

“He can’t change people’s minds,” Hermione said looking thoughtful.

“No, not really,” Neville agreed.

“I need to do more research,” Hermione dropped a couple of coins on the table. “I will see you later,” she muttered, hurrying off from the restaurant. 

Neville looked and Hazel and they both laughed. Of course, Hermione would want to research it. 

***

“How do you handle it, Nev?” Hazel asked as they were walking towards the apparition point after leaving the restaurant.

“Handle what?” Neville asked, confused.

“This… dissonance when you are expected to act one way, but you are used to much less rules constraining you?”

“Mostly avoid it,” Neville shrugged. “I was never a very good pureblood heir. The rules made no sense to me when I was younger. I couldn’t really follow the nuances either. I had made a slew of mistakes every time we went out. Forgot my lines, misspoke the greetings. I was too nervous and shy. I stuttered a lot. I still do,” he smiled cheerfully. “Especially when faced with Viscountess Malfoy, Duke Prince or some of the more imposing Wizengamot members, all my wits leave me.”

“Narcissa is a Viscountess? Damn it. I probably was insulting her all this time,” Hazel sighed.

“I doubt that. She knows your background and I always thought actions speak louder than words. As is in this case.”

“So did your grandmother broach the subject of your and Hannah’s marriage?”

Neville scowled.

“She did, unfortunately. And Hannah’s father talked of it with her as well. Apparently, our parents-slash-grandparents are mighty interested in our sex lives.”

Hazel chuckled, as Neville realized what he had said and blushed furiously.

“Dude, you have to relax,” she said. “So are you going to go through with it?”

“Yeah, I will, if Hannah agrees. That is if she speaks to me after I discuss my holiday plans in Africa with her.”

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

“No,” Neville admitted. “Recently, there has been a real resurgence of traditional behaviors across the Purebloods. As if people are overcompensating for the war,” he said.

“Shouldn’t people be more… relaxed?”

“I guess with the less traditional side in the war winning, they want to make sure their rituals and traditions don’t disappear. At least that’s what my grandmother implies. Especially lately.”

Neville looked at her carefully.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Hazel asked.

“No offense, Hazel, the last two years, you were… not very interested. You were singularly focused on your studies and ignored pretty much nothing else,” Hazel blushed, embarrassed.

“I am sorry, Neville, I wasn’t a very good friend lately…”

“Mate, stop it, I get it. All of us were dealing with yourselves, and we were reacting differently. I wasn’t any better than you were. In different ways, perhaps. I was just wondering what spurred all these questions lately. Because I think it’s good. You are better than you were.”

“It’s not the Crawleys’ case if you are wondering. I have no intention of getting involved in any more crazy schemes.”

“That’s good. I would hate to have to break you out from Azkaban or something.”

“Ha ha, funny. Good to know that you would break me out.”

“Of course, I would. You would do the same for me,” he smiled shyly and Hazel was reminded that Neville was probably the best of them all. Loyal, gentle, compassionate.

“You don’t get to nearly as much crazy shit as I do.”

“Nobody does, Hazel, nobody does. Hannah taught me this Muggle phrase - _curiosity killed the cat_ ,” he smirked at her.

“A lion, Neville, a lion.”

“A lion is just a big cat,” he pointed out and they both laughed.

“So what was it for you? That helped you?”

“Hannah,” Neville admitted. “I was… angry after the war. After all was said and done. Every funeral I had to go to just kept pouring and pouring into what seemed an endless river of rage over me. Collin, Fred, Professor Lupin and his wife. Especially after I saw their son with Andromeda, you know. I was so, so angry at this pointless waste of life.”

“Yeah,” Hazel muttered.

“I wanted someone, anyone to pay. And I was furious with you too.”

“Why?”

“For standing up for them. The Malfoys, the Slytherin students,” Neville admitted. “I am not proud of it. But I wanted someone to pay for…”

“What happened to your parents,” Hazel guessed.

“That too. But Mrs. Weasley killed Bellatrix and I felt robbed of the opportunity to avenge them.”

“I would have never expected that reaction from you,” Hazel admitted. “You were always so gentle and… forgiving.”

“I haven’t either. I guess I overcompensated too. Hannah came by. She wanted someone to talk to about it all. And we talked. Things developed. Of course, Mind Healer helped too,” he smiled weakly.

“So does mine,” Hazel laughed.

“What was it for you?”

“Guilt for those I killed, for those I couldn’t save. And fear.”

“Post traumatic stress disorder. That’s what Muggles call it. We call it shell shock.”

“Pretty much.”

“Glad you are better, though.”

“I am glad you are better too.”

***

Andromeda kissed Hazel on the cheek, when she came to pick up Teddy, just after finishing her lunch with Hermione and Neville.

“Hi, Aunt Andy,” Hazel said sitting in Andy’s kitchen. “How’s Teddy? How are you?”

“Excited to spend some time with you, although I have just put him for an afternoon nap. I, on the other hand, I am fairly good. Looking forward to my weekly sabbath on the Bald Mountain! Minerva and Poppy and Augusta are all coming by this time around,” Hazel laughed at Andromeda’s description of their usual tea meeting. “Do you want some cookies? We just made them yesterday. There is more than enough for you and all of us.”

“Please, I would love some. And I am in no hurry,” she grinned.

“How did your exams go?”

“Very good,” Hazel said, as Andy put a plate of cookies on the table. “I am third in my year! I have never been so high.”

“Congratulations, it’s good to see you taking your studies so seriously.”

“Thanks!”

“What are your plans for the summer?” Andy asked casually.

“Not much. I plan on working after they let me back. And spend some time with Teddy, I guess. It’s my last summer working as a Mediwitch. From September our traineeship starts. I probably won’t have extra hours to spend on actual work anymore between that and the studies at the MUL.”

“Probably not,” Andromeda admitted. 

“Didn’t you consider going somewhere for an actual holiday?”

“Like where?” Hazel asked, somewhat confused.

“France, Spain, Australia? Wherever you want I guess. It’s not like you are lacking funds.”

“Why would I do that though?” Hazel asked between the bites.

“To see the world. To lunge around a nice beach somewhere. Hazel, as far as I know, you have never traveled. Maybe you should go somewhere to explore. You can’t just live on your work forever. Or taking care of Teddy. Not that I am not grateful for a couple days of reprieve. Raising a child on your own is always difficult, but I don’t want you to feel obliged.”

“I don’t feel that!” Hazel protested. “I like spending time with Teddy. He’s my godson. I am not going to just abandon him. Nymphadora and Remus trusted me to at the very least help with raising him. Besides, going on holidays alone doesn’t sound like so much fun. Hermione’s busy and dating someone and I don’t think I have anyone else that I could go with.”

“Well, maybe next year you can think about it. And you could maybe also take Teddy in a couple of years, when he’s a bit older.”

“Maybe,” Hazel shrugged. “I did agree to start having fun lately. After they kicked me out of Saint Mungo. Holidays would work probably. And I guess it could be fun, if I can find someone to come with me.”

Technically, Severus did agree to have fun with her, however she doubted that they could survive each other for that long without massive fights. There was already some friction between them, and they had hardly spent any time together. Or that either of them would actually want to spend more time together.

“That’s… good,” Andromeda said slowly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the woman chuckled. “I just thought it would be much more difficult to convince you,” she admitted.

“I’ve already had that fight with a friend of mine. He said something to the effect of me finishing Voldemort’s job for him by dying from exhaustion.”

“A bit more crude than I would put it, nevertheless probably true,” Andromeda smiled.

“I don’t get it,” Hazel sighed unhappily. “When I am not studying enough, everyone’s on my case, when I am finally studying, everyone says I am doing it too much.”

“Hazel, I am glad that you are working hard for your grades. It shows that you have matured enough to understand that education is important. However, there is such a thing as taking it way too far. You should try balancing it out a bit more.”

“Of course, you would say that,” groaned Hazel.

“I worry about you, Hazel.”

“I know, I know. I am very grateful that you were there for me after the war. I don’t think I would have managed on my own.”

“We are Blacks. We don’t abandon our own. We did try to prevent you going to your mother’s family, you know. Both me and that old bastard - Arcturus. He argued for months that you should be turned over to the Black family. Unfortunately, that did not work. All the family was close to gone by that point. Sirius was already in Azkaban. Lucius barely managed to get off, Regulus was a known Death Eater and many suspected Arcturus to be funneling funds to the Death Eaters. He never did as far as I know. He was old enough and smart enough not to get involved. Or relinquish any of his money. After all he lived through the reign of Grindelwald. The Dark Lords rarely succeed in a long term. It all collapsed after Bella got arrested. Wizengamot just wouldn’t hand you over to the supporters of the man that tried to kill you. Albus made it abundantly clear, despite never saying it out loud.”

“Really? Arcturus Black?”

“Yeah. He overlooked that fact that you were a Halfblood. Probably because you were sort of his last hope. Everyone else was either dead or a traitor.”

“That would be a whole different way of growing up,” Hazel mused.

“Oh yeah. Especially, since you would be raised by the older generation. Pretty much all of them were well over eighty.”

“Well, at least they would have taught me some manners,” Hazel grinned. “You had to pick up the slack when I was already grown up.”

“I did try to get you from Albus too. Of course, I did not have an option to argue in front of the entire Wizengamot, but I did go to him. He completely blew me off. He said that you were better off with your mother’s family, away from all the fame and that the family requested no contact from the Wizarding World. That should have clued me in. I should have argued more.”

“Don’t worry about it. I survived. Somehow.”

“I am ashamed a little bit of not pushing the issue. I can only say it was a terrible time. Everything was in chaos. Some people didn’t believe that Voldemort was gone, others were terrified it was just a ruse. People were lashing out pretty much like they were in 1998. And going against Dumbledore was pretty much unthinkable. He was at the height of his power and influence.”

“Really, Aunt Andy. You don’t have to explain. I let go of my anger about that. Took me about three full months with Jeremy to manage that. It happened, it was crap, but I got through it with just a bit of mental scarring,” she grinned cheekily. “And even if I didn’t spend hours upon hours in therapy, I would not blame you. I told you before, I blame… blamed Dumbledore. Had he survived I probably would punch him in the face.”

“Now, that something I would pay to see,” Andromeda chuckled.

“Many probably would. Shall I go wake up Teddy now?” Hazel asked.

Andy looked up at the clock.

“Yes, you should. Otherwise, you probably won’t get any sleep tonight. And bring him back on Friday morning. He has a playdate with his friend from the daycare.”

Hazel walked over to Teddy’s room. He was already waking up, rubbing his eyes with small fists.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hazel?” The boy mumbled, managing to sit up in his bed. “Hazel!” he exclaimed as he looked at her.

“Hello, Edward.”

“You here!”

“Of course, I came,” Hazel smiled gently, sitting down next to him. “I promised to take you to the zoo, didn’t I?”

“The zoo, the zoo!” he shouted happily, launching himself at Hazel.

“Well, aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Happy, happy,” the boy clapped his hands. “I wait. But I tired. Grandma! Hazel here.”

“That’s alright, buddy. You will need a lot of sleep for the zoo trip tomorrow. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

“Blue shirt! Blue shirt!” Teddy shouted.

“Alright, alright. You can have a blue shirt.”

Hazel wrangled one of Teddy’s blue shirts and some pants on the child and put him on the bed with his feet dangling, so that she could put his shoes on.

“See penguins?” he asked excitedly, when Hazel was tying his shoes.

“Of course.”

“Elephants?”

“Yes.”

“Lions? Birds? Dolphins?”

“I don’t know about dolphins. We might have to go to an aquarium to see dolphins. And there will be lots of birds, like falcons and eagles and hawks and owls. And lions, and tigers, and giraffes. All of it.”

“Yay!”

“You really do enjoy the zoo so much, don’t you?” Hazel smiled fondly.

To have that happy, excited curiosity and love for the world again. Or ever, really. Hazel couldn’t remember being this happy as a child. Maybe she wasn’t. Her only trip to the zoo was tainted with dread and Dudley’s antics.

“Now, where is your bag?” she asked.

The boy jumped off the bed and ran to the corner of the room. He grabbed a large bag and pulled it out, straining.

“Here,” he said happily.

“Alright,” Hazel swung the back onto her shoulder and grabbed Teddy’s hand. “Let’s go. Before you grandma throws us out to prepare for her sabbath.”

“What’s a sabat?”

“It’s a meeting for the witches. On a Bald Mountain.”

“Where that?”

“Somewhere in Poland I think.”

“What’s Poland?”

“It’s a country far, far away. We live in a country called the United Kingdom. Or England. But there are many more countries in the world. Like Poland.”

“Is far?” Teddy asked, his eyes tearing up. “Grandma come back?”

“Yes, very far away, but she’ll be back before the evening,” Hazel said, trying to backtrack on her mistake. “She’s going there with magic.”

Teddy cheered up at that.

They made it back to the kitchen, where Andromeda was already setting up the table for the visit.

“Are you all ready?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you have everything?”

“Yes, grandma. Me and Fluffy,” Teddy exclaimed, showing them a small plushie dolphin.

Fluffy refused to sleep without the toy. It was named, of course, after Hagrid’s three-headed dog. Hazel told Teddy a sanitized version of that story on his second birthday just a couple of weeks back. She had also given him the dolphin then. It was not that surprising that the dolphin got Fluffy as a name.

“Good, good. Now, scram. Both of you. I will see you on Friday, Edward. Don’t exhaust Hazel in the zoo tomorrow.”

***

Teddy was bouncing excitedly around Hazel, when they got to the zoo. He was also asking questions constantly. About the animals, the zoo and everything in between. Hazel was pushing a stroller packed with a lunch for them both.

It was rather early in the morning. Hazel specifically picked the time just after the zoo’s opening, so that they could walk around without bumping into people every step of the way.

They managed to get through the entrance after buying their tickets and Hazel had to catch Teddy who immediately ran towards the gorillas in front of them.

“Edward, there are rules. You are not allowed to run off,” she said firmly. “You will hold my hand the entire time we are here, do you understand?” 

Teddy was a happy, curious child without a lick of shyness. Unfortunately, that curiosity managed to get him in trouble more often than not.

“Monkey! Monkey” he whined.

“You will see the monkeys in a second,” Hazel said. “We both will, but slowly. We have all day. You will get tired and we won’t see anything.”

“Monkey!” Teddy answered her cheerfully.

Hazel sighed. She wasn’t really nearly as good as Andromeda with Edward. Hazel could play with the toys without any problem, but answering question after question frustrated her. Spending a week with an excitable two year old was already exhausting. She liked her godson. She really did and she felt obliged to take care of the boy and lift some of the burden from Andromeda. However, taking care of him, playing with him, reading him books, feeding him twenty four hours a day was… exhausting. She often felt relief when the boy fell asleep or when Andy finally came to pick him up.

It was something she never shared with anyone. Hazel couldn’t imagine how Andromeda managed to do it day-in day-out. She supposed it would be much easier for two people to share continuously instead of just one. Or if Hazel herself was a bit older. Or if the boy was her child. Everyone always said that it was different for your own blood.

She wanted to take as much enjoyment from this as Mrs. Weasley did. The matron of the redhead clan was the happiest surrounded by her children and grandchildren. She visibly glowed when handling little Victoire or and talked proudly about all her sons and daughter. Even Hazel herself. She had patience to deal with all of them and seemed almost rejuvenated by the care she extended.

Hazel just… couldn’t. She could pretend well enough she supposed. At least no one had mentioned it to her so far.

She supposed even Molly Weasley had days when she wanted to just throw them all out and have some time for herself, but she never let it show.

Thankfully, Teddy didn’t attempt to run off again, as they approached the gorilla’s enclosure.

“Wow!” he said.

“Those are gorillas, Teddy. They aren’t monkeys, they are apes.”

“Monkey eat!” Teddy ignored her completely and pointed towards the animals. Hazel followed his gaze. The ape was indeed consuming some food left out by the zoo’s employee.

“Yeah, monkey does seem to be having lunch,” she gave up.

Teddy quickly lost interest in the apes and they moved on to the reptile house. That was by far Hazel’s favorite place in the whole zoo. She always took time to conspicuously converse with snakes inside. They had a morbid sense of humor and some interesting observation, if you were a human. Especially, if they were recently fed.

“ _Speaker is back_ ,” she heard a large boa hiss as they approached. It was already the third time she brought Teddy to the zoo, so the snakes tended to remember her. Thankfully, the reptile house was completely empty.

“ _Hello_ ,” she hissed back.

“ _You brought back the squeaky, noisy one._ ”

“ _So I have. How are you?_ ”

“ _Good. The human brought food this morning. I had fun chasing it around. Deliciousss_ ,” the snake hissed back.

“ _How was the chase?_ ”

“ _Satisfying._ ”

“ _Fear is a great motivator._ ”

“ _Ah, it overdosed on motivation then_ ,” it took Hazel about ten seconds to realize that the food must have died from a heart attack or something similar.

“ _I see_.”

Teddy didn’t allow her to speak for much longer, as he knocked on the glass of a cobra. Hazel chastised him and the boy almost broke out crying. She decided that it was enough of snakes for one day, apologized to the cobra and dragged Teddy to see the safari birds.

Those didn’t interest the boy in the slightest and Hazel was ready to scream from frustration by the time they reached the tigers. Teddy kept asking questions, bouncing and running. Hazel had to chastise him once more.

The tigers turned out to be a hit, for which Hazel was profoundly grateful. They arrived just in time for a feeding and Teddy seemed enraptured for once. Hazel herself enjoyed the talk, even though it was mostly directed at children. She hadn’t had the opportunity before and it felt a bit like recapturing her childhood.

“Look, Hazel! Cat!” Teddy exclaimed, when the tiger came really close to the boundary to grab a thrown piece of meat.

“Yes, Teddy. It’s a tiger,” she explained, regaining some patience for her little godson. “They are large cats from Africa.”

Teddy didn’t listen much. Hazel supposed he was too young to understand or retain the information. They did stay for almost thirty minutes by the enclave though, before moving on to the lamas and moving on within less than three minutes. The next animals that caught Teddy’s attention were the monkeys. They responded to the boy and that delighted him. He waved and cheered. He seemed happy, which Hazel supposed was the whole point of this adventure. 

After Teddy got bored by the monkeys, Hazel found a bench where they could both eat their lunches. It was even more difficult to make sure the little boy didn’t smear his sandwich all over himself without a table to sit at, but she somehow managed.

“Ice-cream?” he asked after they finished.

“Well, I guess you did earn it,” Hazel said slowly. They found a booth that sold them and she purchased the boy a little one, in addition to some coke for herself. It was deliciously cold and refreshing in the sun that was fast approaching its zenith for the day.

Afterward Hazel had to get Teddy to the toilet and clean him up a bit. She helped herself with a discrete spell.

Teddy enjoyed the lions even more than the tigers, which made Hazel become a bit nostalgic. Her days at Hogwarts, despite all the danger, were much easier. Perhaps because the responsibilities and consequences weren’t as clearly pronounced. At least until sixth year, when it turned brutal.

The biggest hit where the penguins. By the time they reached them, Teddy got tired enough that he asked to be pushed in the stroller and Hazel was more than happy to put him in. It was much easier to keep an eye on him when he was strapped in. He also stopped asking so many questions, mostly taking in the views.

They watched the penguins for a while together, as the animals swam and took care of their little burrows. Teddy was rubbing his eyes by the end of it and Hazel decided that it was enough excitement.

They made their way back home and Hazel put her godson to bed.

She was quite exhausted herself, but she wanted to get some reading done for her classes at the MUL next year.

It was quite annoying how everyone chastised her for putting in the work. She wanted, no, needed to prove to everyone that she was more than an _Expelliarmus_. More than just a girl who killed a couple bad guys. And it’s not like she had much more going for her.

***

Severus showed up precisely at seven o’clock on Friday evening. Hazel rolled her eyes at that. He skipped his robes once more in favor of jeans and faded T-shirt, which made him look younger than Hazel could remember. Also, much less intimidating.

“Come in, Your Grace,” she said letting him through.

“Very funny,” he muttered.

Hazel led him to the living room. She liked to have a more relaxed atmosphere for dinner than what she remembered from the Dursleys. The table was exactly high enough to make it easy to eat, while sitting on the couch.

“So, did you actually cook?”

“Yes, why?”

“I was just wondering if I should have brought a bezoar with me.”

“I will have you know that I knew how to make a three course dinner by the time I was ten,” she said with pretend loftiness. “And to bake by eleven. My family never complained.”

Severus looked at her dubiously. Hazel realized that while Severus knew enough to know that her life with the Dursleys was not happy, she had never shared any details that would make any sort of coherent picture of what it was like. The disjointed images he glimpsed during her Occlumency lessons would not be enough to understand what she had to endure.

“I promise I have never poisoned anyone with my meals. You will be fine.” 

Tinny brought them soup and Severus mixed it a bit, before carefully eating one spoon.

“Surprisingly edible,” he muttered.

“You are a right bastard sometimes, you know that,” Hazel rolled her eyes.

“You have invited me here.” 

“Yes. I have invited you. That doesn’t mean I don’t know you, Severus,” she pointedly stared at him.

Severus ignored her in favor of eating the soup.

“Can you cook?”

“I am a Potion Master. Of course, I can cook.”

“I don’t know if that really translates. Cooking’s much more imprecise. And you can actually taste it and smell it in between. You can add spices based on that. You don’t have to chop everything so within one tenth of an inch.”

“You might not be able to taste the potions, but you _can modify_ _and create_ the potions’ recipes based on magic sensing and the properties of different ingredients. It is extremely similar. And just because you mangle your ingredients doesn’t mean I do too.”

“I got 96% on my Advanced Healing Potions exam,” Hazel huffed. “But I am not going to pretend to understand your mastery of it. I doubt I could even if I tried.”

“It’s not that difficult. Requires a lot of work and dedication.”

“My professors tend to disagree.”

The conversation stifled a bit, as they finished their soup. It was always a bit tricky to talk to Severus, while avoiding their mutual history. He saved her from having to pick a topic.

“I thought you would be taking care of young Edward Lupin while you are banned from Saint Mungo.”

“I was. He was here from last Sunday. We went to a zoo and draw pictures and played with blocks. Andromeda was quite grateful. Teddy usually goes to a day care while she takes day shifts at Saint Mungo, but I am sure she appreciates some time for herself. I try to take care of him, whenever I have some time off. It takes my mind off things too. I would have taken him after the weekend too, but Andy said I can’t keep spending all my time taking care of a kid. Apparently, I am supposed to be resting. It’s a bloody conspiracy.”

When it came down to it, being frustrated with an overly active two year old was better than loneliness.

Severus snorted.

“Yes, people are conspiring so that you will not collapse from exhaustion. Outrageous really.”

“Do you want your risotto?” she scowled at him.

“Please,” Severus drawled.

“Tinny!” Hazel called out and the little elf appeared with a crack.

“Mistress Hazel?”

“Could you bring us the risotto, please?”

“Right away, Mistress Hazel.”

“Thank you, Tiny!” she smiled at the elf and a couple seconds later their plates were replaced with new ones.

“Still worried I will poison you?” she asked teasingly.

“No. I am surprised Petunia would teach you how to cook.”

“She didn’t really. She ordered me to make meals mostly and left me to figure it out on my own,” Hazel shrugged. “Aunt Petunia generally didn’t like being in the same room as I was. I started with cooking breakfast, of course. After that she just expanded my responsibilities more and more. She did have some cooking books, so it wasn’t that difficult to figure out after I learned how to read. Who taught you?”

“My mother. Both cooking and potions. When my father wasn’t around, she would teach me about magic and gave me some basic education.”

“Didn’t you attend a Muggle school?”

“No, I haven’t attended a school until Hogwarts.”

“I have. I quite liked it. Spend a lot of time in the library, hiding from Dudley and his goons. They never went into the library.”

“I am surprised you actually knew where the library was,” he said, although it wasn’t in his usual biting tone.

“I did, actually. And I have spent quite a lot of time in Hogwarts’ library too. Mostly due to Hermione’s insistence, but how can you focus on school when there is always another madman trying to kill? Besides, the most interesting books were in the Restricted Section anyway.”

“Yes, the same Restricted Section you broke into during your first year. Most first years don’t even think that far. Usually, it isn’t until the third year, before the students try to get in there for the first time.”

“I even almost succeeded. Not that it would help much. After all the knowledge of Philosopher Stone was much more readily available.”

“How did you figure it out? I always wondered.”

“Well, long story short - Hagrid took me to the vault where it was, after that I read about the break-in. After we _accidentally_ saw Fluffy, we knew it had to protect something. Hagrid let it slip that Nicolas Flamel was involved.”

“Of course, he did, the big oaf.”

“Hey! He’s a lovely and kind oaf.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Anyway, after that we spent hours and hours trying to find out who Nicolas Flamel was. I cannot imagine how many books on famous wizards I have read that year.”

“So, where did you find him?”

“Now, that was almost an insult to how many hours we put into it. I found him on the bloody Albus Dumbledore’s card from the Chocolate Frogs!”

Severus laughed.

“You are not serious.”

“I swear I am. I knew I had heard that name before, but I couldn’t remember where. It’s on Dumbledore’s short biography there. I read it first on the train to Hogwarts with Ron. Ron was… unhappy, because he didn’t have any money to buy sweets, so I bought every damn sweet from the cart to try them all, since I have never had any of them before. And Dumbledore was in my first Chocolate Frog ever.”

“I cannot believe your luck,” Severus shook his head, scowling. “Or your complete disregard for the amount of sleep I lost chasing you through the corridors.”

“Actually, I did not remember about it until I got another Dumbledore’s card from my Christmas gift. After that Hermione found an appropriate book with the information about the Philosopher's Stone.”

“Incredible,” Severus muttered.

“Yeah, we were very lucky. Especially those first few years. Like during the third year, Fred and George had given me the Marauder’s Map. Although, it ended up causing more problems than benefits. At least until fifth year.”

“Marauder’s Map? I heard something about that one.”

“It’s a map that shows everyone at Hogwarts real time. Saved us when we returned to Hogwarts in seventh year. And from Umbridge. And gave me clues about Draco’s mischief during the sixth year. You almost bloody burned it.”

“Have I?”

“Yes. When I got caught in Hogsmeade in my third year.”

“The so-called insulting parchment,” Severus muttered his voice laced with anger at the memory. “I knew it was made by Marauders and it couldn’t be that simple.”

“Yes, Remus took it later and found out about Pettigrew and Sirius being at Hogwarts.”

“Caused problems is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think?” he sneered. “We almost got eaten by a rabid werewolf.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Hazel shrugged. “But we didn’t. No point dwelling on it.”

“I guess,” Severus said. “The amount of mischief I got into during your Hogwarts’ years is staggering. Were you anyone else, you would be bloody expelled. Just for your stunt with the flying car.”

Hazel smirked.

“Probably. But you cannot say it wasn’t somewhat encouraged. I mean, Dumbledore could have probably pulled me out of the Tournament at the very least. And he must have known about the basilisk. I mean if a bunch of twelve year olds can figure it out, I cannot tell me the greatest living wizard cannot. Especially since he was there when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened,” Hazel looked at him deviously. “Come to think of it, how didn’t you figure it out?”

“I have as a matter of fact,” Severus sneered at another painful memory. “It wasn’t that difficult. I don’t think I slept at all that year, trying to find the beast. But it seemed to avoid me. I was the Head of Slytherin. There is magic in the wizarding titles. And I didn’t have the Parseltongue to direct me.”

“Huh.”

“You don’t seriously think that the teachers were doing nothing, do you?”

“Sometimes it felt like it. I mean that first year we went to McGonagall to warn her about… well… you attempting to steal the stone. And she blew us off.”

“Me?” Severus growled. “I have spent seven years trying to save your hide.”

“Sorry, you did seem like the type,” Hazel smiled cheekily. “I was eleven! You were intimidating.”

“Good to know I was at least intimidating.”

“So how was it?” Hazel waved towards their empty plates.

“Acceptable,” Severus drawled.

Hazel grinned.

“I think that’s the best grade you have ever given me.”

“Impossible woman.”

“So the movie,” Hazel grin widened.

“Fine, fine, let’s watch how a space wizard becomes the saviour of the entire galaxy. Looking to expand your sphere of influence?”

“Ouch! That hurts my feelings, Severus,” Hazel pressed a button on the remote and the movie came to live. _The Empire Strikes Back_. “I’m retired.”

“Indeed.”

The movie started playing and Hazel was quite invested in Luke’s journey. Sure, there were some parallels to her own history, but the story was nice and the movie looked awesome, so why not have a bit of fun with it?

It took her almost fifteen minutes to realize that Severus' attention slowly slipped away from the movie. He didn’t seem concentrated at all on the screen. Or his surroundings. No, he seemed to be deep in though, a frown of worry marring his forehead.

“Are you even watching?” Hazel asked Severus.

“Hmmm? Sorry I was… preoccupied.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I don’t think you caught even one scene of the movie,” she motioned towards the screen.

Severus scratched his cheek.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, frowning.

“No. Nothing is wrong,” he denied quickly.

Hazel studied him carefully. It was obvious that there was something wrong. She had only once seen Severus Prince not being aware of his surroundings and it was on her yearly remembrance trip.

“You used to be a better liar,” she said easily.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn’t give him a chance.

“I am not demanding you share whatever is bothering you. It’s just an observation. If you want to, you can, of course, but I don’t require you spilling all your life story and secrets to me.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t care. They just didn’t have that sort of relationship. They fought and they had sex. Sure, they talked. It would be awkward if they didn’t, but they were barely friends before the Anniversary Ball. They had spoken more in the last few weeks than they had in the last two years combined. Sure, they made peace after the war, but after that they had seen each other very rarely and always in the company of dozens, if not hundreds of people.

“It is nothing you can help with, or anything I would be comfortable to share with you,” Severus stated plainly.

“Ok,” Hazel shrugged lightly. “I don’t think we should continue watching though. It’s pointless if you are preoccupied with something else.”

Severus looked mildly uncomfortable for a second.

“You are frustrated with something, aren’t you?”

“I thought you weren’t going to pry.”

“I am not. I just have an idea for you and I to work out our frustration. That is if you want to.”

“Why not?” Severus said after mulling it over.

“Come on, then,” she grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch.

***

Hazel led Severus to the third floor and opened the door to her indoor fighting arena. A small hallway led to a large, circular room, expanded by the goblins using the Wizard Space. It had very well shielded walls and the lights were artificial, magical ones. Apparently, it was easier to shield hard stone if one didn’t have to account for variances that windows brought. There were several automated dummies in the entry hall, some mats and dueling robes. Otherwise it was empty.

“You have a dueling arena inside your house?” Severus asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Cost me an arm and a leg to get the goblins to enchant it just right. It is the best money I have ever spent,” she said grinning. “I get a bit bored with just regular training you prescribe for the post Cruciatus damage. How many times a week can you run along the same path?”

“Seven. Or fourteen if you are really dedicated.”

Hazel rolled her eyes.

“I prefer this. Besides I come up here when I can’t sleep. Fighting to exhaustion, so that I don’t dream. Less addictive than Dreamless Sleep.”

“Planning another Dark Lord killing adventure?” he mocked.

“Of course not. However, keeping my skills sharp might come in handy just in case. I might be a lesser target now than when I was Undesirable Number One, but resentment runs deep. Don’t you still train?” she asked innocently.

“Of course, I do. Turning a traitor is not exactly popular among former Death Eaters. My survival was not by chance.”

“Of course not. You are a bloody impressive duelist. Probably will knock me down on my ass, but at least we can both work out some… frustrations.”

“Against each other?” he asked, eyeing her.

“Do you have objections? The arena is equipped with top level protection including slowing blood loss and preventing most serious injuries. Although, I’d prefer if we kept the Dark Magic off the table. I’ve had enough exposure for this lifetime,” Hazel said cheekily.

“I wouldn’t hurt you like that,” he growled angrily. “Who do you think I am?”

“It was a joke,” Hazel raised her hands defensively. “Perhaps I phrased it poorly. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Severus. You wouldn’t want to undo the years of hard work.”

“You sense of humor needs at least a crutch. Or maybe it’s your mental stability.”

Hazel glared at him.

“I am fucking trying to help you relax, you bastard. You might be a tad more grateful.”

A flash of anger sparked in Severus’ eyes. He took out his wand.

“Let’s do this then. I will take great pleasure from knocking you down a notch.”

“First, you have to manage it,” Hazel took up a position on the opposite side of the room.

“Rules?” he asked curtly, and Hazel knew he was already preparing to strike.

“All’s fair in love and war,” she answered.

Seconds later she was already under a barrage of strikes. She dodged and sent back a few nasty curses, blocking a Burning Curse by transmuting the air in front of her into solid ice. Immediately after Hazel rolled to the side, sending her response towards Severus from her lowered position, trying to surprise him.

They had vastly different styles of dueling. Severus was… magnificent when he fought. More of a skilled dancer than a straight up fighter. His movements were precise and economical, as he sent curse after curse her way. The graceful avoidance of her responses even more pronounced now that he wasn’t wearing his regular robes. On the other hand Hazel relayed a lot of dodges, rolls and her strong magic to shield her from the majority of curses. And instincts. It was perhaps less pretty, but could be employed just as successfully.

The colorful spells sped through the arena, landing on shields or being deflected into well shielded walls, bathing the entire room in vibrant lights. Severus was focused, but there was just a touch of enjoyment on his face that Hazel rarely got to see.

The duel was exhilarating. It was gratifying to see that Severus had not defeated her within the first few moments like after Dumbledore’s death. At least three years of training and fighting hadn’t gone to waste. They were exchanging blows now, looking for an opening in each other’s defense. Hazel rolled to one side, sending three consecutive Cutting Curses, while narrowly avoiding a Blasting Curse. Severus managed to avoid two of them, but the third nicked him on his left shoulder.

Hazel felt glee at managing to land a blow, but it didn’t last long. She was starting to get tired, and although Severus was also beginning to breathe more heavily, he was still looking better than her. The bastard made it look easy.

A quick dodge barely saved Hazel from another Blasting Curse, but she lost her footing, slipped and was put on defensive. Trying to regain her balance, she used a powerful Protego, managing to field off two consecutive courses. But the barrage of spells was wearing her out, she attempted a dodge, but she was too slow. A powerful, Blasting Curse hit her square on the chest sending her flying, her wand slipping from her fingers.

She hit the wall, painfully, despite the Cushioning Charms.

“Oh, fuck,” she mumbled flipping herself to her back.

Severus appeared in her field of vision and knelt down.

“Don’t move,” he muttered, checking her over with a spell. “As gratifying as blasting you through the room was, I would rather not answer Auror Corps’ uncomfortable questions if I have to take you to Saint Mungo.”

“I am fine,” she sat up. “Although, I will probably regret this in the morning,” she smiled at him. “It’s almost unfair how good of a fighter you are. Voldemort was so much easier to take out.”

“The Dark Lord was overconfident and underestimated you repeatedly. Also mentally unbalanced. I have thirty years of solid training. However, you’ve gotten better,” Severus observed. “Even with your Occlumency. I could still get glimpses, but your mind is no longer completely open.”

“Ah, Severus. That is probably the biggest compliment you have ever given me.”

He huffed.

“And yet you still behave like a child.”

_A child? I will show you a child_ , she thought irritated. The bastard was just so bloody graceful in a fight.

She grabbed him by his T-shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him. Severus froze for just a second, but then he responded with surprising hunger, grabbing her hair in his hand. The adrenaline was still buzzing in Hazel’s head, the rush of the duel filling her with excitement.

Severus pushed his hands under her own T-shirt, undoing her bra with a spark of magic. She recognized it easily this time.

“Cheater,” she mumbled.

“Slytherin,” he corrected her pushing her back on the floor and straggling her hips almost without breaking their kiss. Then he pushed her T-shirt up her body. Hazel helped him wriggling out of the garments.

Severus looked down at her. There was something in his eyes that Hazel had not noticed before. It was as if he hardly believed that he was allowed to touch her. He traced two fingers between her breasts, down to one of the scars she had there. She was sweaty from the fight, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Hazel brought her hand to his cheek and forced him to look her in the eyes.

“What is it?”

Severus simply shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said and leaned down, enveloping her nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. Hazel moaned, distracted.

When Severus moved back to kissing her, Hazel pushed up, sitting and sneaking her hands under his T-shirt. He wasn’t nearly as sweaty as she was, which was mildly irritating.

“Off,” she ordered, pushing his T-shirt up.

Severus obeyed, taking it off quickly. He tugged her closer, biting lightly into her neck. The feeling of skin on skin delighted her. Hazel’s hands roamed, touching the hard muscles of Severus’ back, running over the scars on his back gently.

“Why are you doing this?” Severus asked with something akin to desperation in his voice. Hazel was unsure what brought that question on. She abandoned her pursuit of touching every single scar and moved back a little, looking up at Severus’ face.

“Because I want to? Because it feels good? Because why the fuck not?” Hazel offered. And it was true. She enjoyed it and she didn’t give a fuck about people judging her for finding the little bits of pleasure. Severus seemed to accept that response.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“In truth, I do not know,” Severus answered and Hazel frowned.

“Do not know or do not want to answer?”

“Both,” he kissed her deeply, his hands undoing her pants. The next few moments were all feeling, both of them working in haste to get the other one naked. Once they managed to get their trousers off, Severus didn’t waste any time, pushing Hazel onto her back and grabbing her thighs in an iron grip. She was grateful for specialized cushioning charms on the floor for a moment, but when she felt his tongue breaching her, she could only moan loudly. A wave of pleasure crashed trough her. It was quite unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“Oh,” she groaned.

Hazel tried to move, but Severus wouldn’t allow her. She was fast reduced to the wonderful, wonderful feeling of pure, physical pleasure. The world zeroed in, narrowing to just this moment, just this heat pooling deep within her.

It seemed to last forever before Severus replaced his tongue with his fingers.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he smirked above her. 

“Come on, Severus!” Hazel moaned frustrated.

“I am not hurting you, you bloody, impatient woman” he growled, finally removing his fingers and lining up. He kissed her, as he slowly pushed his cock inside her.

“Bloody gentleman,” Hazel mumbled. Severus pushed sharply inside her, shutting her up.

“You are just so bloody… frustrating,” he muttered before kissing her deeply and thrusting in. It was sharper, faster than any of the previous times. Hazel grabbed onto Severus’ shoulders, as he moved quickly within her, as he thrust hard into her. It was almost painful at times, but as the adrenaline from the fighting was still pumping through Hazel’s veins, she took it, hooking her legs around his hips.

Severus kissed her demandingly.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered and Hazel did. The pleasure intensified.

He pounded into her, as if trying to work out all his frustration with this one fuck. Hazel held onto him with one arm, while following Severus’ order with the other.

It felt brilliant. Harsh, hard, intense. As the orgasms rolled through her, she dug her nails into Severus’ back. She moaned, as he continued to thrust, her oversensitive walls spasming. She jerked and groaned, her arms losing their strength, her entire body turning into what felt like jelly.

It was almost too much.

“Sev’rus,” she moaned and he came with a grunt inside her, stilling. He collapsed on top of her. They were both glistening with sweat, breathing heavily.

Severus pushed himself up on his arms and watched her carefully for a couple of seconds. Then he lowered himself back.

“Well, I guess sex is rather good,” Severus said. “Good reason for doing this.”

Hazel bit him in response.

_ That asshole. _

Severus pulled out gently and attempted to untangle himself.

“Don’t,” Hazel asked softly. Severus frowned, but only flipped them over, continuing to hold her.

“Are you alright?”

“You always ask,” she muttered against him.

“It’s polite,” he huffed.

“I like it. Yes, I am alright. I just…” _like being close afterward? Enjoy the safety you make me feel?_

“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” he said.

“You don’t?”

“No. No, I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Located in the Democratic Republic of Congo


End file.
